The Logic of Emotion
by LadyRainbow
Summary: 5th in the AU Switcheroo Universe. How did Trip Tucker meet Ambassador Soval? Here is the story. Revised to reflect changes in the Switcheroo series. Please R&R, much appreciated. COMPLETE w/Chapter 8 Epilogue
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: Fifth in the Switcheroo Series. Here is the story of how Lieutenant Commander Trip Tucker met Ambassador Soval. Trip's birthday isn't explicitly stated in **_**Enterprise **_**canon, so I assumed it is the same as Connor Trinneer's, which is March 19. (Info from Memory Alpha's website) Connor (and Trip) was 32 when the series premiered, so in ****this** **AU (which is in its "first season" and starts in 2154. Note the different starting date from the "real universe") ****this** **Trip Tucker was born on March 19, 2122.**

**A picture of the IDIC symbol is located on the Memory Alpha (Star Trek Wikipedia) website. Just look up IDIC in the search feature.**

**This has been revised from the original version to reflect current changes in the series. Kov is mentioned, though he isn't in this story. There are many Switcheroo cameos including Lizzie Tucker (alive and well in this AU), Captain Ramirez (_Intrepid_'s captain in the "Real Universe", Nathan Kemper, and many others.)**

**Rating: T**

**Please R&R**

**

* * *

**

**One**

**19 March 2154**

**a week and a half after "The Batty Engineer"**

T'Pol blew out her meditation candles and began to roll up her mat. This was one part of her busy day she cherished; the quiet time for contemplation to calm the mind. "Still the mind, still the soul," she murmured to herself. Healer T'Kuir had taught her that as a child; she considered it as true now as it was then.

The door chime interrupted her musing. "Enter," she called.

The door slid open to reveal Lieutenant Commander Jon Archer. He glanced at the still-smoking meditation candles and the mat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you, T'Pol. I can always come back later."

"You are not interrupting, Jonathan. I had just finished." She gestured him to a soft floor pillow. "May I get you something to drink? _Saya _juice, perhaps?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Actually, I just came by to drop a package off for you."

She raised her eyebrow and repeated, "A package?"

"From Soval." He pressed a palm-sized box into her hand. "He didn't tell me what it was, but he said it would comfort you, should you need the comfort."

She examined the plain wooden box, but the outside of it gave no indication of its contents. Her curiosity got the better of her and she slid the top of it open. Nestled inside was a copper circle with a tiny emerald stud in its northwest quadrant. A triangle bisected the larger circle, its point touching the emerald. The whole symbol was mounted on a disk of sea blue glass.

Her breath caught as she lifted the symbol out of the box. It was strung with a copper chain, with an emerald-colored clasp. The low lights sparkled on it and revealed colors hidden within it.

"_Kol-Ut-Shan_," she whispered. "_K'lalatar prnak'lirli._ I have never seen it represented in such manner before."

Jon chuckled. "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. IDIC. That has always been my favorite Vulcan concept, T'Pol. I think it explains the Universe."

"Indeed." She gazed at him. "Thank you, Jonathan. It is...stunning. I must send Soval my gratitude for such a gift."

He nodded and got up from the pillow. "Tell him hello for me. I have to drop off another package, T'Pol, so I will see you tomorrow morning."

"Another package?" she asked before she could stop herself. "Also from Soval?"

He smiled. "Actually, yes. It's a birthday present for Trip."

Her gaze became confused. "A birthday present for...Lieutenant Commander Tucker?" she repeated. "From Soval?"

Jon gave her one of his 'come on, he's not that bad' looks. "Remember, Soval knows Trip too. I introduced them to each other about ten years ago, when I first arrived at the Vulcan Consulate in San Francisco."

"Ah." She raised an eyebrow, this time in understanding. "So that is how the three of you first met. I recall Soval mentioning a young security man assigned to the Consulate...that must have been Lieutenant Commander Tucker."

His grin widened. "Yes, and it's quite a story. I'm sure he'd tell you all about it, if you asked him. Why don't you tag along while I drop this off at Trip's quarters?"

T'Pol opened her mouth to refuse, but she was genuinely...intrigued at the prospect of knowing the details of Trip and Soval's first meeting. Soval was cool, logical and Vulcan. Trip was passionate, illogical and Human. How could the two become—and still remain—friends a decade later?

"Very well," she said. "I will accompany you. I'm sure this is quite the story."

* * *

Trip Tucker smiled at the young woman on the screen and shook his finger at her. "Now, young lady, I want to know every sordid detail. Who is he, what does he do, and does he have Mama and Dad's approval? Does he treat ya right? 'Cause if he doesn't, I'm gonna hop the next transport home and beat the crap outta him."

Elizabeth Tucker rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, Trip, don't pull that big brother act on me again. The answers, in order: his name is Jamie, he's British, he's a fellow architect, and Mama and Daddy have met him. Alexandra and Eddie have also met him and they like him. And Ian absolutely adores him; you know your nephew, Trip, he's got an internal radar that rivals Mama's when it comes to people." She stuck out her tongue at him and finished, "So there."

"He's got Ian's approval? Already? Wow!" Trip chuckled as she glowered at him. "Then he's gotta be somethin'. Though I gotta wonder...what the hell is it with these Brits? I got one who keeps after me for a physical— "

Elizabeth's grin was positively sadistic. "I bet she wants more than just a quick 'physical'."

He glared at her. "The doc is a he, Lizzie, and no, I don't think of him 'in that way'. I'd rather sleep with a Tellarite first."

"Be careful what you wish for, brother mine. Aren't you guys supposed to push back the borders of the known universe?" Trip sputtered and she laughed. Then her grin softened as she continued, "But hey, I called you to wish you a happy birthday, Trip, not talk about my love life, and definitely not about the prospect of shagging a Tellarite."

"Listen to ya. You already sound like a Brit."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "I hope your Armory guys threw you a party. They didn't give you a fireworks display, did they?"

"Nah, I think the cap'n would've had a fit if they did. And they didn't tie me to a torpedo and threaten to shoot me off the ship. In fact, they—"A chime interrupted him. "Enter! Anyway, they decided to keep it quiet-like and—" His grin widened as he saw his visitors. "Jon! T'Pol! Hey, Lizzie, Jon decided to show up!"

Jon Archer smiled at the blonde-haired woman on the screen. "Hi there, Lizzie."

She matched the smile, her blue eyes sparkling, so much like her older brother's. "Hello, Jon. Keeping Trip out of trouble?"

"Trying my hardest, but you know him—"Jon left the sentence hanging and Trip mock-glared at him. "Don't let me interrupt, Lizzie."

"Don't worry about it, Jon." Her eyes drifted over to the Vulcan woman. "You must be Lieutenant T'Pol. My brother has talked a lot about you."

She raised an eyebrow at her easy familiarity. "And he has talked a lot about you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth."

"Call me Lizzie. Everyone else does." She frowned at something, then glanced back up. "Well, I've just about reached my calling limit here. I'll tell Mama and Daddy you're doing okay, Trip. Take care of yourself, okay?"

His eyes softened. "You too. Love ya, baby sister."

"Love ya too, Big Brother." Lizzie smiled and her image winked out.

Trip sighed and ran a hand through his short blond hair. "Yeah, that was my younger sister," he answered T'Pol's unspoken question. "I got an older sister, a younger brother and Lizzie. I'm the eldest son and the second kid."

T'Pol nodded. "She seems rather pleasant, Lieutenant Commander." At his glower, she amended, "Trip."

"Lizzie's the type that gets along with most people," Trip said. He glanced at Jon. "You two missed a hell of a party in the Armory."

"Sorry, Trip, but I had some things that came up," Jon apologized, "and I was hoping to make it up to you with a bottle of good Kentucky bourbon and a present from Soval."

He blinked. "A present from Soval? Don't you dare." He accepted the flat box from Jon and opened it. A twin of T'Pol's present lay there nestled in velvet, but instead of an emerald, the smaller sphere was of a more bluish stone. "Wow. This is pretty, but Soval knows I'm not really big on jewelry..."

"It is a symbol from Vulcan philosophy," T'Pol said. "The English translation is 'Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations', or IDIC for short."

Trip grinned and said, "Yeah, that sounds like something Soval would believe in. Well, I should send him a thank-you note in the mornin'." He deftly unhooked the chain and slipped it over his head, then hooked it again. "Noticed you got one too. It suits ya. Interestin' he'd send one of these IDIC things to both of us..."

"I am curious as to how you know Soval," T'Pol said. "You have said it is—"

"—a long story. Yeah, I did, didn't I." He chuckled. "Well, you might as well pull up a chair, 'cause it is. Break out the bottle of bourbon, Jon, and I'll get scrounge up some tea for T'Pol. Can't say I'm amiss in my hostin' duties—"

T'Pol sat comfortably on one of the padded chairs as Jon and Trip busied themselves with the drinks. She hid a smile as she thought, _Yes, I expect it to be an interesting tale indeed._

**Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, March 11, 2144**

Ensign Charles Tucker the Third sighed as he approached the security gate of the Vulcan Consulate. The unsmiling guard on duty looked down on him with an impassive expression. Although Trip Tucker was tall for a Human, this Vulcan topped him by at least seven inches and fifty pounds. _I wouldn't want to run into this guy in a dark alley, _he thought.

"Ensign Tucker?" the Vulcan asked. He extended an open hand; Trip moved to shake it, then remembered in time that Vulcans didn't like to be touched. Instead, he handed the guard his PADD with his orders on it. "You are to be one of the security detail here at the Consulate?"

Trip nodded soberly. "That's correct, sir."

The guard's mouth twitched as he read the orders. "You do not need to call me 'sir'. I am Third Officer Somek, and as Third Officer, I believe your rank supercedes mine."

"Ah—" Trip felt the color rise in his cheeks. "I didn't know that."

"That is understandable." Somek handed the PADD back to him. "The Ambassador's assistant is expecting you. Go through those doors and wait for him."

"Thank you, Third Officer." Trip nodded and set off in the direction Somek had indicated. Now that has been a first impression: embarrassing himself in front of a junior Vulcan officer._ There's something about that kid, though, something endearing behind that stiff exterior. _He chuckled under his breath. _Yeah, that's real good. You don't need to go corruptin' Vulcan kids._

The foyer of the Consulate was a large, airy room, well lit by skylights in the ceiling and huge windows. The honey-colored walls reflected the sunlight, a marble fountain gurgled in the corner, and the sweet smell of Vulcan flowers wafted through the air. Trip felt his tension melt away, but he automatically surveyed the room anyway, noting the possible exits. He noticed the security cameras placed high in the corners, the silent scanners built into the walls. It was an ingrained habit; after all he was a security officer.

Soft voices echoed off the walls. Two voices: one quiet and subdued, the other harsh and strident. Trip frowned and turned towards the spiral staircase set in one corner of the room. He recognized a handful of words..."unnecessary, emotional, difficult", but most of the argument was muffled and distorted. Were they discussing him?

He took a deep breath and went through some mental exercises to calm himself. The last thing he wanted to do was fly off the handle and make himself an ass in front of the Vulcans. He'd rated highly on weaponry certifications and unarmed combat, and had even began studying some Vulcan martial arts. If the Vulcans didn't want him here, he could always go back to the Weapons Development Division at Cape Canaveral...

A Vulcan in a military uniform made her way down the staircase, her boots ringing off the marble. Her gray tunic had no decoration, but the insignia marked the woman as Head of Consulate Security, with the rank of Major. Trip immediately snapped to attention as she approached. She was much shorter than he was, with glossy black hair in a tight twist on the back of her head. Her eyes were orbs of brown ice.

She said nothing for several moments, but just looked up at him. The officer radiated a sense of cold, no-nonsense efficiency that Trip identified almost immediately, but it was mixed with a dangerous aura. This woman was used to being obeyed. _Uh-oh, this gal is bad news, _he thought.

"Ensign Charles Tucker, I presume?" The cool tone had a touch of haughtiness.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"My name is Major T'Lydya, Ensign, and I expect to be addressed as such. Am I clear?"

He stifled a wave of irritation and said, "Yes, Major T'Lydya."

"Good." She walked around him once, as if assessing him. "You are assigned to the security detail protecting Ambassador Soval's new assistant. Your Human commanding officer is Captain Carlos Ramirez. You will report to him from now on, is that understood?"

Trip stifled a wave of relief. He knew it was unprofessional, but he dreaded having to deal with the hostile T'Lydya. "Yes, Major T'Lydya."

"Soval's assistant is well-regarded in diplomatic circles, but he has the tendency to find himself in rather...tense situations. His casual acceptance of the most basic of security measures is quite unacceptable. It is hoped that he would respond more positively to a uniquely Human approach."

The dry irony struck a chord within Trip. He'd had to do bodyguard detail on high officials who hadn't the faintest clue of how difficult it was to protect them. Was Soval's assistant one of them? Trip suddenly thought, _Was the major talking about _Soval's assistant _when she was upstairs and not me? _If the man was as casual about protocols as T'Lydya implied, then he understood why Captain Ramirez needed an extra security man on the premises.

"I'll do my best to impress upon him the necessity of security protocols, Major T'Lydya."

She didn't smile, but Trip felt her humor all the same. He also got the feeling that the major was relieved she didn't have to deal with Soval's assistant. Trip had the mental image of an elderly, crotchety man with an attitude problem.

_Great, what have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

The rest of the morning passed in a whirlwind of activity. Although T'Lydya ran a tight unit, she also insisted in following some enjoyable traditions. One of them was a formal banquet for their newest officer. Trip met some of the enlisted men and women who would be under his direct command. To his surprise, none of the Vulcans seemed upset at having a Human commander. On the contrary, they asked him questions about Human customs where he came from.

"They know you're from a different area of the planet," explained Captain Ramirez. The Head of the Terran Security detachment chuckled and added, "You should've seen them when I arrived, Ensign. I had to explain the Mexican holiday of _Cinco de Mayo_ and they wanted to hear every detail."

Trip grinned and took another sip of his Vulcan tea. "Well, curiosity is a Vulcan trait."

"Most of them are very dedicated to their job, Ensign. I don't think you'll run into any problems. If you do, just let me or Diplomat Archer know."

"Archer?" Trip repeated. He frowned in confusion. "I thought Henry Archer was the head of Starfleet's Engineering Research and Development. He's supposed to be workin' on a faster-than-light engine, last I read."

Ramirez inclined his head. "You an engineer, too?"

He shook his head in a rueful negative. "Nope, not formally, but I got some interest in that kinda stuff. I took some courses at the University of Florida; one of 'em just happened to be a design lab and I got into weaponry there." He chuckled. "Got into security protocols and tactics and here I am."

"I went to Florida State." Ramirez grinned and added, "Football season is another holiday over here. The Vulcans don't understand it, but a few appreciate the...statistics."

Trip choked on his tea. "Aw, the statistics. Yeah, right." He glanced casually around the room and noticed a tall, brown-haired man in a Vulcan-style tunic. The man chatted with Major T'Lydya, who seemed to only tolerate him. Despite her standoffishness, he still treated her with respect due her rank.

The man bowed to her and she returned it, albeit grudgingly. Then he turned and spotted Trip. The man's eyes sparkled with humor, his mouth stretched in a genuine smile. The aura of eagerness reminded Trip of a friendly dog..._Pomeranian? Naaah, beagle, maybe. _The man hurried over to Trip's side.

"Ensign Tucker? I'm Jonathan Archer." Archer extended his hand and this time, Trip allowed himself to shake his hand. "Major T'Lydya just told me you've arrived."

"Just stepped off the transport this mornin'," Trip answered. So, this was the new assistant to Ambassador Soval. Archer had his father's look around the eyes, the same benign face Henry had, as if he was sympathetic to your cause. Trip understood that skill would be invaluable in Archer's line of work.

"You sound like you're from...Missouri? Arkansas?"

Trip chuckled and shrugged. "The panhandle of Florida, actually, but I have relatives in Mizoorah and Ar-kan-saw," he replied, laying on the Southern accent a little thicker as usual.

"Glad to finally meet you. T'Lydya was concerned that we might have some kind of personality conflict, but I'm willing to work with you on whatever protocol you deem necessary." Archer smiled and glanced at Ramirez. "And a good afternoon to you too, Carlos. How's your wife doing?"

Ramirez chuckled. "She's more than ready for our daughter's appearance, Jon. Doctor Reed says it should be any day now."

"Well, I have confidence in the good doctor's skills." Archer's admiration for this particular doctor's skills sounded genuine, and Trip made a mental note of it. "Well, since you're officially off-duty, what should I call you, Mister Tucker?"

"I go by Trip, sir."

"Jon. I'm not on duty, either." Archer gave him a quizzical look. "'Trip'? Isn't that a strange name for a security officer?"

Trip sighed and rolled his eyes. "It doesn't refer to my sense of balance, if that's what you're worried about. It's a nickname."

"I'm sure that's quite a story," Jon commented. "Mind sharing it?"

Trip grinned at the curiosity in his voice. "Sure. Sit back and I'll tell ya all about it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Timeline note: In this AU Universe, the Vulcans make first contact in 2063 like the "real universe", so Trip's story (in 2144) occurs only 81 years after First Contact here. There are still some wrinkles in Vulcan/Human relations to be ironed out.**

**Rating: T**

* * *

**Two**

**Trip's Quarters, _Enterprise_**

"Wait a minute...you thought I was some old, crotchety guy with an attitude problem?"

Trip chuckled at the nonplussed look on Jon's face. "I didn't know it was you, remember? From what T'Lydya told me, that was the image I got in my mind's eye. Sorry."

T'Pol inclined her head. "T'Lydya? She had interned in T'Pau's department before coming to San Francisco."

"That's right. I think T'Lydya said once that T'Pau taught her everything she knew."

She nodded. "She was so much like her aunt. I met her once, while I was briefly at the Security Ministry. Very calm, collected...I wanted to be like her."

Trip raised his eyebrows. "T'Lydya is T'Pau's niece. Okay, that makes a lot of sense now."

"She was T'Pau's niece. She had been originally assigned to capture Menos, long before I was given that job."

Trip stared at her. Menos, the Vulcan who had tried to derail _Enterprise_'s First Contact with Betazed. Suddenly, T'Pol's behavior during that event meant more sense, and her unspoken words told him that T'Lydya was no longer alive. Jon gave him a slight nod, confirming his thoughts.

"That's right...you were at the Security Ministry for, what, a year?"

"Eighteen months, before I worked for the Ministry of Space and Ship Operations. It was not a pleasant experience, but T'Pau and T'Lydya made it more tolerable."

"I'm sorry, T'Pol. I didn't know." Trip opened his mouth to say something else, but his door chimed. "Enter!" he called.

Commander Travis Mayweather stuck his head in the door. "Hey, is this a private party or can anyone join in?"

"C'mon in, Travis. The more, the merrier." Trip gestured for Travis to take a chair while Jon poured him a generous splash of the bourbon. "I was just tellin' a story."

"This oughta be good," Travis said as he made himself comfortable. "What story?"

"How I met Jon and Ambassador Soval. Lucky you came in close to the beginning. Just told them about the first reception at the Vulcan Consulate in San Fran."

Jon matched Travis's broad grin. "And he'd thought I was some old, crotchety geezer."

"Like I said, blame T'Lydya. She had me thinkin' you were." Trip summarized the story so far, and Travis nodded.

"Well, it being your birthday and all that, thought I'd give you a little gift." The first officer handed a basket to Trip. It was decorated with blue and green ribbons and filled to the brim with a dozen oranges.

"Oranges? Fresh oranges? Don't tell me you raided Chef's stash."

"He'd kill me if I did. I got this from my brother on the _Horizon_." Travis grinned and gave him a shrug. "I told him you were from Florida and he sent this over."

"Gotta send him a thank-you note too. Thanks, Travis." Trip set the basket on his desk and its citrus scent filled the air. "All right, if we're all settled, lemme get back to the story—"

* * *

**Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, March 11, 2144**

Captain Ramirez and Trip spent the entire afternoon going over security protocols for the Consulate, specifically as concerning both Diplomat Archer and Ambassador Soval. Trip had heard of Soval, the Vulcan ambassador to Earth for the past nineteen years, but had never met him.

"You'll get your chance in the next few days," Ramirez said with a slight smile. "He's off-planet now, attending the wedding ceremony of his mother's first cousin, but he's due back soon."

"Vulcan family trees are enough to give anyone a headache," Trip quipped. "Everyone seems to be related to everyone else in some way."

"Not quite everyone," Ramirez said with a chuckle. "Vulcan's a big planet. Ever been there?"

"Nope, though I'd like to see it sometime."

Finally, Ramirez showed him to his new quarters, just down the hall from Archer's and around the corner from Trip's new office. Trip was surprised that he, a mere ensign, had been assigned an office, of all things. Ramirez said it was standard for anyone working at the Consulate.

"Dinner is at nineteen-hundred hours in the Dining Room, Ensign. I'll come by and pick you up."

"Thanks, Captain. I appreciate your help, sir."

After Ramirez left, he settled into his new home. There were several messages on his computer terminal: one from Major T'Lydya, one from his mother back in Florida, and one from a Doctor Samirah. Trip frowned and accessed the last message. A dark-skinned Human female smiled at him from the screen.

"Hello, Ensign Tucker. My name is Doctor Janeese Samirah," she said with a soft, exotic accent. "Starfleet Medical at Cape Canaveral have forwarded your records to the main Medical complex here in San Francisco. I am one of three Human doctors assigned to the Consulate. Please return my call as soon as possible to schedule your baseline physical. If I am not here, leave a message with either Doctor Ayakamura or Doctor Reed and I will get back to you. Thank you very much."

Trip sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Knew that was coming," he muttered. He enjoyed physicals about as much as having a root canal at the dentist. "Might as well get this over with."

His call to Samirah's office was transferred to one of the other doctors. The petite Asian woman on the screen looked up at him with a bright smile. "Ensign Tucker? I'm Doctor Michiko Ayakamura. Doctor Samirah said you would call."

Her cheerful voice brought a smile to Trip's face. "Yeah, I got her message. I need to schedule an appointment with her."

"Shouldn't be a problem, Ensign—" There was a slight chime from behind her and she said, "Excuse me. That's my pager." She glanced down and read the message on it. "Hm. Looks like I'm going to have to cover some extra patients. Let me transfer you to Doctor Samirah's assistant and she'll get you set up straightaway."

"Thanks, Doctor Ayakamura." To Trip's surprise, scheduling the appointment was a lot easier than he'd expected. Then again, Starfleet Medical in San Francisco was at least twice as big as the one at Cape Canaveral, and expediency was critical in a place like that.

Suddenly, someone pounded on his door. Trip jumped, his hand going to the sidearm at his belt. "Who is it?"

"It's Captain Ramirez." The captain's voice was calm, but Trip heard a note of panic in it. He went to the door and opened it to find a slightly flustered Ramirez. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have Major T'Lydya escort you to dinner tonight, Ensign Tucker. I just got a call from Doctor Reed."

"Your wife's having the baby?" Trip asked. No wonder Ramirez looked like a nervous wreck.

He nodded. "I've got to get to the Medical Complex."

"Then you'd better get going, sir. Babies won't wait." Trip realized that must have been the page that Doctor Ayakamura had gotten during their conversation. She must have had to take over Reed's regular duties at the office.

"You sure you're going to be all right? T'Lydya isn't the easiest person to get along with—"

"I'll be fine. Go, Cap'n, or your wife's gonna be mad at you."

"I have the feeling she's going to be mad at me anyway." Ramirez gave him a weak smile, then hurried down the hall. Trip watched him go.

_Poor guy_, Trip thought. Then he realized he'd have to spend the evening with a cranky Vulcan. _Yeesh. Poor me._

* * *

"This stuff's pretty good. What is it?"

T'Lydya raised an eyebrow in surprise and her mouth tightened somewhat. For a moment, Trip feared she was going to get angry, but he saw the unwilling sparkle in her eyes. The Vulcan was trying (and failing, at least according to Trip) to hide her humor. "That is called _pok tar_, Ensign. We usually have it for evening meal."

"I've had some vegetarian dishes, but this one rates near the top of the list."

She inclined her head. "I will let Chef Sunet know of your approval."

The dinner party included several Vulcans and a few Humans, but Trip noticed the two groups kept their distance from each other. In fact, he caught a few suspicious glances from the Human contingent, and more than a few from the Vulcans. Trip had to remind himself that although Vulcans and Humans had known each other for eighty-one years, there were still some issues between the two races. Some Humans, like Archer, Ramirez and himself didn't have any trouble working with Vulcans, but that didn't mean others wouldn't have a problem with it.

"Ensign Tucker? May I speak with you for a moment?"

The quiet, polite voice over his shoulder held a hint of apology. Trip glanced at the man and noticed the uniform. _MACO. _He hadn't know there were any assigned to the Consulate, but it didn't surprise him. "Of course, Mister—"

"Kemper, sir. Corporal Nathan Kemper, of the 521st Division, sir."

Trip raised his eyebrows. "521st, huh? Pleasure to meet you, Corporal." He glanced at T'Lydya, who was not at all pleased at being interrupted, but he noticed she hadn't ordered Kemper away. "Permission to withdraw for a moment, Major?"

She nodded, but not without spearing Kemper with a look of disapproval. "Granted, Ensign."

Kemper led him to the garden just outside the Dining Room. "Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I thought I'd give you fair warning, sir."

Trip frowned, though he had an idea of why. "Fair warning, Corporal? About what?"

"I don't know if you've noticed it yet, but there's some tension between us and the Vulcans over certain areas," Kemper said. He lowered his voice, although he really didn't need to. "Some of my colleagues are convinced the Vulcans are arrogant, condescending and just want to be a pain to Humans in general."

"And you?"

"I don't share the same sentiments, sir. They keep it in check when Diplomat Archer is around, or Ambassador Soval, but when they aren't...it can get rather ugly, sir."

_No wonder T'Lydya looks like she's swallowed a gallon of prune juice,_ Trip reflected. "Some Vulcans aren't happy with us, either, but we gotta learn to work together, whether they like it or not." He nodded. "Thanks for the warning, Corporal."

"You're welcome, sir. I gotta get back...I told 'em that I was gonna warn you about the Vulcans; they think you're under their spell or somethin'."

Trip snorted. "Not likely. I'll be careful, Corporal. Hey, why don't you stop by my office tomorrow and you can tell me more about what's going on around here?"

"No problem sir. Captain Ramirez was planning on telling you anyway, but—" Kemper shrugged. "It might be a bit tense with him not around now."

"I'll keep an eye out. Thanks again."

Kemper saluted with perfect military precision, then turned on his heel and strode back into the Dining Hall. Trip watched him go, sighed and shook his head. _This is gonna be a long night._ As he followed in Kemper's wake, he became very aware of T'Lydya's gaze on him.

* * *

**Trip's Quarters, _Enterprise_**

"Kemper? As in Major Nathan Kemper?" Travis repeated, his eyes wide in realization.

"Yeah, the kid's on the _Columbia_ as Captain Hayes's Tactical Officer," Trip confirmed. "Y'know, if our orders hadn't gotten screwed up before we launched, he might be sittin' here instead of me."

Travis nodded. Kemper had been chosen as _Enterprise'_s Armory and Tactical Officer, but a mix-up of rosters had put Kemper on _Columbia_ instead, and had replaced him with Trip Tucker. They all noticed that T'Pol was studying the depths of her tea, for it had been the Vulcans who had messed up the assignments. Travis brought the topic back to Kemper.

"Whoa. Talk about a small world."

"You were with Hayes on the _Montana_, right?" Trip asked him.

The first officer grinned and replied, "I was his Science Officer. Captain Hayes can be hard, but he's a fair commanding officer. I know that some people don't appreciate his command style—"

"—but there are some who think he's all right, like a certain science officer," said a voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to see Captain Hoshi Sato there. She waved her hand as they all started to stand at attention. "At ease. I don't mean to crash your party—"

"—then don't just stand there in the hall, Cap'n. Get in here." Trip was about to vacate his seat for the captain, but Jon Archer beat him to it. "We've got some fine Kentucky bourbon, if that's to your taste."

She shook her head. "Bourbon's not on my list of favorite drinks, but if you have any tea, I'd be grateful."

"One Vulcan green tea coming up," Jon said and went to get it.

"I just got off-duty. Sorry I missed your party, Trip," Hoshi said. "I wanted to give this to you before the night was out." She gave Trip a bottle with a red-and-yellow ribbon tied around it. "Happy birthday."

He glanced at the label of the bottle and whistled. "Wow. I didn't really peg you as a sake drinker, Cap'n. I thought you didn't drink very much."

"I don't, but my father sent this to me to give to you. He's one of the best distillers in Kyoto, you know." She grinned. "This is from both of us."

"Wow. _Onegaishimasu_, Cap'n. Thank you." He carefully set the bottle of sake on his desk, right next to the basket of oranges from Travis.

Hoshi nodded at T'Pol, who sat serenely in the ring of senior officers. "Lieutenant T'Pol, how are you feeling?"

"I am well, Captain. The stomach ailment passed quickly, thanks to Doctor Reed's quick care." She glanced back at Trip and went on, "That reminds me...why did you not tell us you knew Doctor Reed before being assigned to the _Enterprise_?"

Trip's laugh was rueful. "Um...I didn't. Not really."

"But you were both at the Vulcan Consulate at the same time, were you not?"

"Doc Reed was actually at Starfleet Medical, and not exclusively at the Consulate. He was one of the few Human doctors who didn't mind working with Vulcans at the time." Trip laughed again and Hoshi gave him a sympathetic look. "I knew of him; after all, Ramirez sang his praises after Isabella was born. Unfortunately, I didn't get to actually meet Malcolm until about five weeks ago. Every time I got curious about our resident medic, he always seemed to be on duty or gone for some reason."

T'Pol gave him a strange look, one that was touched with a sudden comprehension. Trip raised his eyebrows, but she only shook her head and said, "Curious."

"I thought so, too. If I hadn't known better, I would've thought he was avoiding me on purpose, but like I said, neither of us really knew each other then." He shrugged and took a sip of his bourbon. "I usually saw either Doctor Samirah or Doctor Ayakamura, so it really wasn't an issue to me at the time."

Jon frowned. "I hadn't known about that, Trip. I'd always assumed you met Malcolm at one point or another. That is strange."

Trip shrugged again. "Sometimes things happen. Why don't you ask the Doc next time you see him?" He took another sip, then said, "All right...where was I?"

* * *

**Vulcan Consulate March 16, 2144**

Trip adapted quickly to the routine at the Consulate. He accompanied Jonathan Archer to breakfast at the Dining Hall, where he usually discussed his schedule with his security team and other business with other diplomats. Trip shadowed Jon as he went through meeting after meeting, argument after argument, polite dance after polite dance. Trip was impressed at the man's patience and aplomb; not many people could handle a touchy meeting between the Vulcan Trade Minister and the Andorian representative.

At lunch, Jon would ask him of his impressions of the people they had met. The first time, Trip was reluctant to give his opinions, but Jon clarified, "You're a trained security officer. Sometimes you see things I can't. I'd like to know what you saw in their body language, their unspoken words. Forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes." So Trip told him, and together, they both saw insights neither one would have seen alone.

Jon Archer seemed to follow all the security protocols perfectly, so Trip didn't know why Major T'Lydya had been worried. Trip chalked it up to different personalities and different views on doing things. Corporal Kemper had been right; there was an undercurrent of hostility between the Humans and the Vulcans at the Consulate, but Trip couldn't tell where it stemmed from.

Then, five days after his arrival, Trip was thrown for a loop.

* * *

"Trip! Nathan!"

Trip heard Jon's call from the open door of his own office. He immediately reacted to the alarm in Jon's voice. Three seconds later, he was at Jon's door with an equally worried Corporal Nathan Kemper. Jon Archer was sitting at his computer terminal, his gaze on someone standing at the corner of the room. Kemper raised his EM-33, but Trip put a hand on his arm.

A young Vulcan woman stood there, her arms up, her hands curled into claws. Her long black hair hung in tangles waves over her shoulders. She glanced at Trip and he took a half-step backwards at the madness within her eyes.

"T'Saiya," Jonathan said in a soft voice. Then he added a few words in Vulcan that Trip didn't understand, but Trip thought were supposed to be soothing. He finally recognized her: T'Saiya was the receptionist of the Vulcan Consulate. She was polite and friendly to everyone who came by her desk.

She definitely didn't look friendly now. Her cheeks were flushed bronze-green and sweat covered her brow. T'Saiya turned away from Jon and took a step towards Trip, who responded by taking another half-step backwards into the hall. Kemper kept his aim trained on T'Saiya without wavering.

"T'Saiya," Jon repeated, this time with a strident note in his voice.

She shook her head and muttered something under her breath in Vulcan. Then she advanced towards Trip and Nate, who both retreated in her wake. Trip heard commotion behind him, but he didn't dare look over his shoulder. The gleam in T'Saiya's eye was hungry, predatory, as if she was a crocodile and he, Trip, was an appealing snack.

Another soft voice said something in Vulcan. _Major T'Lydya. I didn't know she could sound like _that, he thought. The gentle tone was completely at odds with the Major he'd met. He couldn't see her face, but the voice was light, lyrical.

T'Lydya's words seemed to have an effect. T'Saiya stopped in her tracks and cocked her head to the side as if listening to some inner voice. Then she slowly began to drop her hands to her side and took a step away from them...

Then she moved faster than anyone Trip had ever seen. T'Saiya leaped forward like a pouncing tiger, nimbly avoiding Kemper's shot and knocking Trip down flat on his back. She was heavier than she looked and the wind flew out of his lungs in a gush.

"Don't let her touch you, Trip!" Jon shouted.

He grabbed her hands and struggled against her. With a grunt, he threw her off him, but in the process, her right hand brushed against his temple. Stars exploded in front of his eyes, followed by blackness.

* * *

He awoke in a daze. _What the hell just happened? _His memories were fuzzy, indistinct...all he could recall was a pair of dark, crazed eyes and claws ripping into his skin...

"You are awake," said a calm voice. "Do not attempt to move. You have been hurt."

"Jon?" he rasped. "Nathan?" He realized he was lying on a couch in one of the Consulate's meditation rooms. A fire pot in the corner provided the only light and heat. There was a large shadow sitting in front of him. That shadow turned and he saw a gray-haired Vulcan in ceremonial robes.

"They are awaiting word on your progress," the Vulcan said, "but I would like to check you first, with your permission."

"Yeah...I guess," Trip mumbled. "What're you gonna do? Read my mind?"

The Vulcan said nothing for a moment, but his voice held dry humor. "No, Ensign Tucker. We Vulcans do not 'read minds' unless the situation is quite dire. I will ascertain whether or not T'Saiya's attack has had any inadvertent effects on your mind."

"You a Healer?"

"Of a sort. I come from a long line of diplomats and healers, Ensign." His mouth went up in a slight smile, startling Trip out of his daze. "I understand we have not been introduced yet, Ensign Tucker. My name is Soval."

"Ambassador Soval?"

"Yes."

He swallowed hard. So this was the formidable Vulcan ambassador and Jon's boss. "Pleased to finally meet ya. Wish it was under better circumstances."

Soval nodded gravely. "As do I."

"Ambassador—"

"I am not in that capacity right now, Ensign. My name is Soval, as I have said."

"Then you can call me 'Trip'. Ensign isn't my first name, either."

Soval didn't quite laugh, but Trip felt his amusement. "Very well...Trip. You will have to explain the significance of the name later. It is unusual for a security officer."

He sighed and rolled his eyes and thought, _Aw, no, not again. _"Ask Jonathan Archer. He knows the story."

Soval nodded at that and Trip sighed again in relief. "I shall, then. Please, try to relax. If there is any discomfort, I will discontinue the link. Agreed?"

Trip nodded in turn. "Agreed." He closed his eyes as Soval's long fingers rested on his face, and he felt a stir of warmth from the touch. _Son of a..._he thought in wonder.

Then another world opened in front of his eyes, a world different from his own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Malcolm Reed joins the party. A shadow player visits Trip. You'll know who it is.**

**Rating: T**

**Please R&R.

* * *

**

**Three**

**Trip's Quarters, **_**Enterprise**_

"What is it like, being in a mind meld?" Travis asked. He looked at Trip, but directed the question at Trip. T'Pol, and Jon. Then Travis blushed and hastily added, "Is it taboo to ask? I mean, you don't have to answer if—"

Trip shrugged. "I wish I could answer that one. I don't really remember much of it...except that it felt really weird. It was like I could feel Soval in my head, a light touch on the inside of my skull. Hard to describe, Travis. A lot of images; can't remember most of them, though Soval told me later that there was the possibility of 'bleedthrough'—"

T'Pol nodded. "What he refers to, Commander, is the inadvertent glimpse of another mind or memories during a meld. It does happen on occasion, but usually neither participant remembers the specific details. Only those with unusually high esper ratings may remember, but even then, the details fade after time." Her face became serious. "That is one reason why we Vulcans do not meld indiscriminately. There is the possibility of unexpected side effects."

"There are other kinds of melds, too," Trip said. "Healin' melds, for example, but Doc Reed would know more about that than I do." He frowned. "Speakin' of, where is he? He promised me a couple of pints of Guinness—"

"—which were appropriated by the fellows in the Armory," said an accented voice in the doorway. "Unfortunately, that comprised my entire supply for the moment, so I'd hoped this would be an acceptable substitute." Doctor Malcolm Reed smirked and eyed the crowd, which was crammed into Trip's quarters. "Quite the party, I see."

Trip's grinned widened and he waved Malcolm into the room. "Get in here, Doc. What's that in your hand...aw, you shouldn't have. Good English stout? Yeah, I s'pose that'll have to do for now." And the six-pack of stout joined the sake and the oranges on his desk. Trip took his time with the arrangement as he watched Hoshi Sato make room for Malcolm to sit next to her. T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but Trip only shook his head slightly.

"Where's Kov?" Hoshi asked. The young Vulcan Healer would have enjoyed listening to this particular story, for he was curious about Human interaction.

Malcolm smiled at her, and Trip resisted a smirk at the unconscious softening of the doctor's face. "He's on-shift at the moment; otherwise, I'm sure he would be curious to see you all here. So what has all of you enthralled enough to be packed in here like a tin of sardines?"

Jon chuckled and said, "Trip's recounting the story of how he met me and Soval at the Consulate. Hey, I was under the impression you'd met Trip while you were at Starfleet Medical, but Trip said you hadn't."

"Oh." Malcolm sighed and shook his head, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "Wretched timing and bad luck, I guess. Doctor Samirah and Doctor Ayakamura kept complaining about the security officer who kept getting into mischief. I was curious, but fate conspired against getting to know Mr. Tucker better. I was doing consulting work and research, and away some of the time."

"But not even one time?" Jon was persistent.

"It's not as unusual as it seems, Jonathan. After all, Mr. Tucker hadn't been one of my regular patients, and not too long afterwards, I was invited to return to the Vulcan Medical Academy." Malcolm gave Trip a look of apology. "So I was pleasantly surprised to finally meet you when you were assigned to _Enterprise_."

"How long did you stay on Vulcan?" Trip asked.

"At first, I'd planned to stay only the two years for my residency. I decided to specialize in exobiology,exosurgery and Vulcan medicine. It was there I met Doctor T'Les and T'Pol." Malcolm inclined his head at the Vulcan lieutenant. "Doctor T'Les and Healer T'Vau discovered I possessed a Healer's level of empathy, so they recommended additional Healer's training, in addition to my other medical training."

Eyebrows shot up all over the room. Trip had seen some strange events during their First Contact on Betazed and suspected Malcolm possessed some kind of empathic talent. Travis stared, wide eyed at the chief medical officer, while Hoshi and Jon didn't seem too surprised at the revelation.

"You can feel things like a Vulcan Healer can?" Travis asked.

"In some ways." Malcolm's gave him a dry look and added, "and I have to rely on the Vulcan mind disciplines to have some peace of mind. I was quite fortunate to have met T'Les and T'Vau when I did. Then I heard of Lieutenant Commander Tucker and now I end up on the same ship as him."

Trip laughed and rolled his eyes. "Geez. Thanks, Doc. I feel really special now."

Travis shook his head again and repeated, "Man, talk about a small universe. Everybody knows everybody, or at least has met. Doctor Reed, Lieutenant T'Pol, Lieutenant Commanders Archer and Tucker... so that's how you met Ambassador Soval, Trip?"

"Yeah. Not exactly a good situation, but that's when I first met him," Trip confirmed. "And the next day was even stranger..."

* * *

**March 17, 2145, Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco**

"Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Ensign."

Trip cracked his eyes open to see Captain Ramirez sitting in a chair next to him. His brain felt like scrambled eggs that had stayed too long in the pan. "Captain? What happened? I—"

"Ambassador Soval came in to make sure you were all right. He told us there wasn't any permanent damage, but that you'd probably have one hell of a headache when you woke up."

"He's right." Trip managed to sit up with Ramirez's help. "I feel like the fourth day of a three day pass."

"This should help." Ramirez pressed three tablets of aspirin into Trip's hand, then got up to fetch a cup of water. Trip swallowed the aspirin, then chased it with the water. His stomach threatened to rebel; he closed his eyes until the nausea subsided. "Lie back down and rest. I've taken you off the duty roster for today."

"Can you move the pillow to my back, sir? If I lie down now, I'm gonna get sick."

When he was comfortable, the door opened to admit Jonathan Archer. Archer's face was creased with worry. "Trip, are you all right?"

"I've felt better, but I'm alive," Trip said, "considering I was used as a tackling dummy. Is T'Saiya all right? What was wrong with her?"

Jon shook his head; Trip thought it was in answer to his question, but Jon gestured for Ramirez to stay in the chair and not offer it to him. "Doctor T'Inya examined her, Trip. T'Saiya's on a Vulcan corsair headed towards Shi'Kahr, where her family'll take care of her. Her fiancé is meeting her in Shi'Kahr with the rest of her kin."

"She's sick?" Trip's brow furrowed. "Is it serious?"

"Doctor T'Inya said it was a hormonal imbalance. Apparently, it occurs rather frequently, so the doctors there know how to deal with it. T'Saiya should be all right and return in a week or two. "

Trip blew out a breath in relief. "Thank God. She looked really sick. I don't think she meant to attack me; I just happened to be in the way at the time."

Jon leaned forward and put a hand on Trip's shoulder. "You stopped Nathan from shooting her. Neither of you could have known that if he had, T'Saiya could have died from the shock. That was good reflexes on your part."

He blushed and demurred, "Nah, it was nothin'. I'm just glad she'll be all right."

"Get some rest. You've earned it." Jon glanced at Ramirez. "Come on, Carlos. I'm sure your little girl's eager for her dad to come home."

After the two men left, Trip drifted off to sleep. When he woke again, another man sat in the chair he last saw Ramirez sitting in. He didn't look familiar, but something about him set off Trip's internal alarms. He fought through another bout of dizziness to focus on his new visitor.

"Who're you?" Trip demanded.

The man chuckled and replied, "My name is Captain Mark Harris, Starfleet Intelligence, San Francisco. I'm sorry I startled you, Ensign, but I needed to talk with you right away. Corporal Kemper insisted on watching over you until you woke up."

Movement in the corner of room attracted Trip's attention. Corporal Kemper stood there, his EM-33 unholstered and ready. The MACO's body language told Trip that this man, Harris, was a dangerous man, and Kemper didn't trust him. Kemper's hawk-like gaze never wavered and his body was coiled like a spring.

"You're fortunate to gain such loyalty after being here less than a week, Ensign," Harris observed with a touch of humor. "You've become fast friends with Diplomat Archer and Captain Ramirez, as well as the Vulcan ambassador himself."

Trip shook his head. "I can't say he's a friend, Captain Harris. I got hurt and he just made sure I was okay. I don't really know him at all, except the fact that he's Diplomat Archer's boss."

Harris nodded and sat back in his chair. "Tell me what happened yesterday, Ensign."

"There's not much to tell, sir, but I'll do my best." Trip recounted what happened from the time Archer had called him to his office to when he'd woken up that morning. Harris was the picture of attention, not interrupting his story. When Trip was finished, the man only nodded.

"How much do you know about Vulcan history, Ensign Tucker?"

"Not much," Trip admitted. "I do know that they hadn't always been logical, but after Surak came, they completely redid their society."

Harris nodded again. "That's what most Humans know about them. Before Surak, they were extremely volatile, proud, intolerant. Very similar to Humans in many ways, in fact. In that, we've got something in common. I think Vulcan and Earth could benefit from a closer relationship in the future, but others don't believe it's a good idea."

Trip frowned at the thought. _Kemper said that some people here at the Consulate have bad feelings against the Vulcans. I've seen it. _"Yeah, I know."

"I'd like you and Corporal Kemper to keep an eye on these people here," Harris said. "Intelligence has reason to believe that either Ambassador Soval or Diplomat Archer might be in danger from these...factions. Soval is aware of the danger, as well as Archer, but Archer's known for his rather, um, cavalier attitude about security protocols."

"So I've heard," Trip said without humor. "I'm workin' on that. He said that he'll go along with whatever we need to do to protect him."

"Good." Harris said. He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform, causing Kemper to tighten his grip on his weapon. Harris's smile became a leer as he tossed two PADDs over to the MACO. "I've just given Corporal Kemper some background information on these people, Ensign. I'd like both of you to read it. Forewarned is forearmed. The more insight we have, the better we can defend against them."

"All right. I'll read what you've got, Captain."

"And I'd like to ask you a favor, Ensign."

"What kind of favor?"

"If you see or hear anything that might qualify as a threat to either Soval or Archer, let me know. I'll leave my personal comm code with Kemper as well." Trip only nodded, but made no promises. Harris noticed it and said, "I think you'll make an excellent Security officer, Ensign Tucker. A word of advice: don't trust anyone, even those whom you think are friends."

And with that, Harris got up from the chair and walked out of the room without a backward glance. Kemper immediately followed him to the hall. "He's gone, sir. Just like a ghost."

* * *

**Trip's Quarters, Enterprise, March 19, 2144**

"Harris?" Malcolm raised his voice slightly and arched one sardonic eyebrow. "Captain Mark Harris? White hair, blue eyes, smooth talker, obnoxiously polite?"

Trip stared at him. So did everyone else; Hoshi, in particular, looked concerned at the change in the doctor's demeanor. "You know him?"

"He was interested in certain elements of Vulcan biology and physiology that are rather...delicate. Harris doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer." Malcolm's eyes drifted over to T'Pol, who was studying the depths of her tea cup. Trip felt a sudden surge of anger for T'Pol's sake.

_What kind of slimy creep would—?_

"Sounds about right," Jon commented dryly, breaking into Trip's dark mood. "I saw him at the Consulate several times after the 'incident' with T'Saiya, then he disappeared for a while before coming right back. I think Soval actually threw him out. Picked him up by the collar and dumped him on his ass. Another time, Soval tried to prevent him from falling into San Francisco Bay, but wasn't successful."

Trip suddenly laughed at the mental image. "Sovalthrew him out twice? Once in the Bay? Oh, man, I wish I would've seen that!"

Jon shrugged and corrected, "The second time was kind of an accident, but I don't think he was trying too hard to save Harris from floundering in the water. Most Vulcans dislike the water, you know."

T'Pol spoke up, "I believe Soval termed it as 'poetic justice'."

There was laughter all around, then a cheerful voice interrupted, "I do enjoy hearing my crewmates in a wonderful mood. May I join your little gathering, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Hi, Phlox." Trip waved the last member of the _Enterprise_'s senior staff into the room, which by now was rather crowded. The Denobulan engineer shook his head as Hoshi offered him her seat.

"I believe the greeting is 'happy birthday'," Phlox said as he handed Trip a wrapped package. "This is for you."

"Thanks." Trip unwrapped the paper to reveal a long, rectangular wooden box. He unlatched the top and peered inside. "What the—? Where'd you get this?"

"What is it?" Travis asked as he looked over Trip's shoulder. The Armory Officer lifted out what looked like an oddly-shaped shotgun. It was single-barreled, its stock made of some exotic wood. Trip sighted down the barrel with an expert eye and whistled in delight.

T'Pol glanced at Phlox with an expression of disapproval. "You gave him a weapon?"

"It's a part of Denobulan history, Lieutenant. That is a Mystakae, used by the infantry about two hundred years ago. The firing mechanism has been disabled. My third great-grandsire used it during his service. Lieutenant Commander, if you examine the underside, you'll see Denobulan script there. It forms his name and the name of his unit."

"I'm honored that you'd give this to me, Phlox. Thank you."

The engineer chuckled and traded smiles with Hoshi. "You have no idea how difficult it is to bring a weapon on board without the Armory Officer's knowledge, but Captain Sato knew about it."

"Thanks. I'll take good care of it." And Trip laid the Mystakae back into its box and placed it in a spot of honor close to his other birthday gifts. "You're just in time to hear the interestin' part of my story 'bout my first meetin' with Jon Archer and Ambassador Soval. I'd been assigned to the Consulate and within a week of bein' there, I was already gettin' into trouble..."

* * *

**March 17, 2145 Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco**

News of T'Saiya's "attack" spread over the Consulate faster than an impulse engine gone ballistic. Although Captain Ramirez had taken Trip off the duty roster for the day, people found excuses to drop by his quarters. Most of the Security detachment came by to check on him, as well as some Vulcan residents of the Consulate. Trip didn't mind; he was the warm, congenial Southern gentleman. He chatted with his visitors, asked about their histories, shared some Vulcan spice tea and non-alcoholic drinks.

By the late afternoon, he'd formed a good idea of where most of the personnel stood as far as Human/Vulcan relations went. He and Kemper went down to the Dining Hall for dinner. Neither wore their uniforms, but civilian clothes, and Trip picked the middle of the room, where no one could miss them.

"Hi there, Corporal," said a man dressed in a MACO uniform. He was tall and dark-haired, with dark blue eyes. "Mind if I sit here with you two?"

"Sure," Kemper replied. "Corporal Lee Doumaides, Ensign Charles Tucker. Newest security guy assigned. Barely a week here."

"Pleased to meet you, Ensign," said Doumaides, as he sat next to Trip. "Barely a week, huh? You've already made the grapevine, with what happened yesterday. Not many of us get flattened by a rabid Vulcan."

Trip raised his eyebrows at his words. "She was sick, not rabid. They said she's getting the best medical attention possible."

Doumaides nodded at the correction. "I'm glad to hear that, Ensign. You aren't hurt?"

He chuckled and waved his fork. "All in one piece, appetite and all. Look, I just wanna forget about the whole thing, okay?"

"Sure." The three of them ate in companionable silence for a little while, then Doumaides said, "Hey, since you're new to the Consulate and San Francisco, how about you and Kemper join us for a nightcap? Say, twenty-hundred hours? I know an out-of-the-way place where the Starfleet Security contingent hangs out."

"Sounds good," Trip replied in a casual tone. "I'm tired of restin'. It'll be good to get out for a bit."

Doumaides chuckled and said, "Yeah, we've all endured the trials at the hands of the Vulcan Healers. Sometimes, you just gotta get away and enjoy the hometown haunts. How 'bout I come by and pick you up at nineteen-hundred and I'll show you around."

"Thanks, Corporal. I'd sure appreciate that."

"Call me Lee. Everyone does." He smiled at Kemper. "Ask Nate over here about the time I nearly got eaten by someone's pet _sehlat_. It's one hell of a story. See you in an hour."

After Lee left, Kemper gave Trip a look of amusement. "You know, sir, you'd make a great secret agent. Lee's already extended you an invitation at the first meeting. It took _me_ several weeks before he took me out for a drink."

Trip only shrugged. "You gotta know how to approach 'em, Nate."

* * *

The "out-of-the-way place" was a little bar near the waterfront called "O'Charley's". It was meant to be an Irish pub, with real beer taps and genuine pub grub. Trip had been in several pubs in Ireland with his brother-in-law; he knew what the real thing was supposed to be like. Unfortunately, this wasn't it.

"This is god-awful," he whispered to Doumaides. "You guys hang out here? It's worse than a Saint Patty's Day mock-up."

Doumaides chuckled and shrugged as he said, "That's the point. No one bothers us here. Think of it like some kind of gentleman's club for people like us."

"'People like us'?"

"Look around you. You don't see any 'Greenies' or 'Blueys' here, do you?"

Trip forced himself not to react to the offhand nicknames. "Greenies" were Vulcans; "Blueys" were Andorians. He scanned around to find that Doumaides was right. Every patron was Human, and one in particular caught his eye. The man was dark-haired, broad-shouldered, with the demeanor of a professional soldier. He caught Trip's scrutiny and raised his mug in salute. Trip noticed the man's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Who's that guy?" Trip whispered.

"Ah..he comes now and then, when his ship's in port. He used to be an engineer; now he's first officer on a support ship somewhere. The brass got pissed at him when he slugged some Andorians at Jupiter Station and stuck him where he wouldn't be an embarrassment. Sharp as a whip, though, and speaks a lot with his fists. Good guy to have at your side."

"Former engineer, huh?" Trip said casually. "Mind if I go over and chat with him?"

"Go right ahead. I'll keep the stool warm for you."

Trip approached the officer, whose green eyes flickered with interest. Wordlessly, he gestured to the chair opposite him and Trip took the offered seat. Trip noticed a bottle of whiskey on the table and two glasses. If the guy was planning on drinking himself to oblivion, he wasn't doing a good job of it. The level of alcohol was still at the neck of the bottle.

"You expectin' anyone?"

The officer shrugged. "Nah. You'll do. Wanna drink? I'll pour."

"Sure." Trip watched him as he poured the whiskey into the glasses. He would have been handsome, if his mouth wasn't turned down at the corners. Trip thought of his mother saying, "Don't scowl like that; your face will freeze that way." This man's face was permanently frozen.

"Heard you got attacked by a crazy Vulcan," he said. "You all right?"

Trip gave him an annoyed look. "Everyone keeps askin' me that. I'm fine."

"Just checking. Guys over here tend to be overprotective of their buddies, especially when one of their own gets hurt." The man shrugged again and added, "I can understand the sentiment."

Trip noticed the changes over the man's face and thought, _Okay, this man is pretty protective of the ones under his command. Lee said he was a first officer. You don't reach that rank without some smarts or a __**lot**_ _of help. Seems like a decent sort, except Lee said he doesn't like Andorians._

"Lee told me you were an engineer. I've got some interest in that area. What'd you do in your previous life?"

"You mean before I got tangled with the Andorians?" A note of bitterness crept into his tone. "Warp mechanics, mostly. I was a junior engineer on the _Shenandoah_."

"The _Shenandoah_? My brother was a consultant on their ship design."

The man grinned and Trip was startled at the transformation. "No kidding. Did a damn good job of it, too. In fact—"

That was the start of an enjoyable hour of talking about all kinds of engineering and security protocols. For a man who had been "an embarrassment" to Starfleet, he knew his business. When he'd started to lose Trip in an explanation, he didn't hesitate to backtrack and rephrase it in words Trip understood. Again, Trip thought, _Starfleet's loss. This guy is brilliant. I could see him captaining his own ship someday, if he hadn't gotten into trouble._

Trip avoided mentioning the Andorians, but to his surprise, the man brought it up himself. "I've got myself a temper," he admitted. "Now, I know I should know better, but their arrogance and their ignorance...it makes me want to wipe those smirks off their faces. They're just as bad as the Vulcans, except they actually showit. I don't know which on of the two is worse."

Trip hid his grimace under a gulp of whiskey. "Seems like there are some people who don't care much for either one. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"Yeah, that's why a bunch of 'em have decided to take a stand. They want to protect what's theirs_. _Not just in the Consulate, but all over San Francisco. Probably all over the planet. I'm not here a good bit of the time, so I don't know much about 'em, but I try to find out as much about 'em as I can and keep in touch with the ones I've met." He leaned forward, his green eyes intense. "If you want, I could share what I've got, if you're so inclined."

Trip inclined his head, pretending to think it over. It was interesting that he'd referred to this group as "they" and "them" and not "we" and "us". If this man was a member, he wouldn't have talked about them in third-person. Which meant that there was more to him than people assumed.

That, and the look in his eyes told Trip that he wasn't as dumb as he seemed.

"Deal. I'm interested." Trip extended his hand and the man shook it. "Well, since it looks like we've got a partnership here, what's your name? I think it's rude to just say, 'hey you'."

The grimace on his face melted into a genuine smile. "Call me Jeremiah."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: Canon doesn't say where Hayes or Kemper come from, so I made Hayes from Colorado and Kemper from Massachusetts.**

**You will see the point where Trip "chose the other path" of Security over Engineering. And what is the deal between Soval and Trip?**

**Please R&R. Thanks.**

**

* * *

**

**Four**

**Trip's Quarters, _Enterprise_**

Travis blinked, then glanced at Hoshi, who had a shadowed look in her eyes. He noticed that Doctor Reed was also looking at her with an unreadable expression. Trip gazed at the captain steadily, but Hoshi's features didn't change.

T'Pol's eyebrow was up to her hairline. Vulcans weren't supposed to show emotion, but this was as close to surprise as Trip had seen her so far. "Captain Hayes? He was the mole within that organization?"

"Well, yeah, he wasn't a captain then, T'Pol." Trip sighed and shrugged. "Some of what he told me was the truth. At the time, he was a first officer, but of the _Shenandoah_, not some podunk support ship. He has some engineering background, but actually came up the ranks as an Armory officer. As for his temper, well—" he coughed and gave Hoshi a look of apology.

"Matt's usually pretty controlled, but when he thinks there's an injustice, he's the first to get caught in the fray," Hoshi said. "And the bit about the Andorians...it was only after _Columbia_'s last visit to Andoria that he settled some issues with them. If I remember right, he actually volunteered for that mission, ten years ago. We weren't...together...then, but he and I had some arguments about his getting involved."

Malcolm's mouth tightened, but he only asked, "'Jeremiah'? I thought his name was Matthew."

Travis answered that question, for he'd been Matt Hayes's science officer previous to his posting as _Enterprise_'s First Officer. "It is. Jeremiah is Captain Hayes's first name, but he usually goes by his middle name. His grandfather's name was Jeremiah and he and Matt didn't get along very well."

Malcolm nodded and addressed Hoshi again. "How long have you known Captain Hayes?"

"Twelve years. I was teaching at the United Earth Air Forces Academy, on leave from Starfleet. He's from Colorado Springs and I met him on campus. He'd done a teaching stint at their Piloting School, trying to 'instill some sense into those punk pilots'." She chuckled at the memory. "Even then, he was pretty protective of the men and women under his command."

Trip grinned. "Yeah, sounds just like him. I thought maybe he was attached to Covert Ops or something. He certainly acted like it. Anyway, the day's events weren't over yet—"

* * *

**March 17, 2144 Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco**

They were being followed.

Trip knew it within two blocks of leaving the pub. He glanced at Nate Kemper; the MACO only nodded in agreement. Whoever it was had done it before; Trip wasn't sure just whathad tipped him off to the man's presence, only that his senses were hypersensitive. It wasn't Lee and it sure wasn't Jeremiah, but how he could tell the difference, he couldn't say. He just knew.

By tacit agreement, he and Nate took a long, circuitous route back to the Consulate. They strolled along the Marina, sampled some seafood from a dockside restaurant and chatted about the various boats moored there. Trip, with his sailing and diving background, regaled Nate with some of his more hair-raising tales from off the Florida coast. Their shadow kept up with them every step of the way.

"Ever miss Florida, Ensign?"

Trip glanced at Nate, who sat at a nearby bench. "Yeah, I suppose so. San Fran is nice, but it ain't the same. Weather's a bit too cold for my liking and the fog...brrr. I prefer the warm water of the Gulf. Nothin' quite like it, ya know."

"Yeah, I can relate. I'm from Cape Cod, and it sure isn't the same." Kemper closed his eyes and enjoyed the ocean breeze. "When we get some leave, I'm gonna take you to my sister's place and I'm going to introduce you to Maine lobster and real New England clam chowder. Not the stuff that Starfleet thinksis clam chowder."

"I'd enjoy that, and maybe you can come down to Florida and experience my momma's pan-fried catfish. Family recipe." Trip watched the shadow out of the corner of his eye and judged the distance between them. Their "friend" made sure to keep out of his and Nate's direct line-of-sight. Trip glanced at Kemper, whose right hand rested on his lap, his fingers around the grip of a tiny dart pistol.

Trip spotted a three-masted ship in a nearby berth. Its name was on the bow in green scrolled letters: _Le'matya. _He frowned as he stared at the lettering, trying to remember where he'd heard the word before. _Le'matya. That isn't Standard English. Is it Vulcan? What's a Vulcan doing with a boat? I thought they hated the water...their planet's mostly desert..._

The clouds passed over the moon and blackness engulfed the wharf. Trip felt his mind wander as he tried to remember...

It was dark night, like this one, and he stared out into the gloom, hardly breathing, but every nerve was strung tightly like a harp string. The environment was unforgiving; he knew it had claimed many young lives, and he was determined not to join their number. Unfortunately, the le' matyas were numerous this season and were competing for the same prey. He picked his way across the rocky terrain and tried to control his fear, but he knew they were out there and they were looking for him. It was safer to travel by night, for the day was merciless, and many had made the mistake of sleeping at night.

A howl chilled his blood. That one sounded close, too close. He quickened his steps; perhaps if he got out of its range, it would lose interest. Or if he reached one of the stone mesas, it wouldn't follow him. His heartbeat sped up, sweat dotted his brow, but his hands and feet were steady.

The scrape of claws against stone was his only warning. Then the hunter leaped at him...

"Ensign! Behind you!"

Kemper's shout broke Trip out of his daze. Another body slammed into him and knocked him backwards. He heard the sharp whine of Kemper's dart pistol, felt the man stiffen and become a dead weight. Unfortunately, they were already moving on pure momentum and Trip's feet felt nothing but air. He took a deep breath and twisted his body so he entered the water feet-first. The shock of the cold water nearly drove the air from his lungs.

_Damn, I didn't realize the Pacific could be so _cold! His sense of self-preservation kicked in and he began to struggle to the surface. Something made him glance below him and there, falling fast, was his attacker. Trip reversed course, diving until he reached the man and grabbed him by the collar. Although Trip was well-versed in lifesaving techniques, he realized that there was no way he'd make it to the surface with the added weight.

Then, miraculously, he felt someone else take up the slack. Trip kicked his way until his head broke the surface. He coughed, spit out water and gulped great lungfuls of air. He saw Kemper on the dock, along with some bystanders. To his great shock, one of those bystanders gazed down at him with a look of mixed chagrin and disapproval.

_What the hell is Soval doing here? _Trip glanced at his rescuer and found another shock. Brown hair, green eyes, and an expression that could shatter titanium.

"You get yourself into the worst situations, don't you, Ensign?" said Jonathan Archer.

* * *

"I tell ya, Jon, I'm fine! Can you call the Healer off?"

"Trip, sit down and shut up." Jonathan's voice was brusque. "Doctor Ayakamura insisted on examining you, too. What the hell were you doing out at the marina? And how'd you end up in the water? You could catch pneumonia or something!" He glared at Trip and stopped Trip's complaint cold. "This is the second time in less than a week that you've ended up needing care. I swear, you attract trouble like a magnet. You're supposed to protect me and I'mthe one who saves your ass."

"Hey, it wasn't my fault this time, just like the first time wasn't my fault," Trip shot back, irritated at the condescending attitude. "For your information, I actually enjoy bein' near the water, and Kemper and I were talkin' about the differences between Florida and Cape Cod, nothing earth-shattering, then this bozo comes rushin' up and tackles me and I end up in the water. He's damn lucky I decided to save his sorry hide instead of lettin' him drown!"

"And you nearly drowned trying to save him. Trip, I understand you want to save the world—"

"Dammit, the guy's a potential suspect, Jon. He tried to assault me; I didn't do anythin' to him." Trip realized he and Jon were shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. The fact hit Jon at the same time, and a chagrined smile came across the diplomat's face. "'Sides, what were you and Soval doin' at the marina? Vulcans don't hang around the water...or so I was led to believe."

"We were on our way back to the Consulate from a dinner at the Rofarions' Consulate. For some reason, Soval told the driver to take the long way around. I didn't understand why, and he didn't tell me. Then we hear an alert from the marina guard and since we were close by, we decided to see if we could help. I got there just in time to see you fall over the edge of the dock and I dove in after you." Jon chuckled to himself. "Thank God I still play in San Fran's water polo league. Anyway, I saw you were in trouble and...the rest you know."

Trip blinked. "Wait a minute. Soval made the diversion?"

"Yeah. It thought it was out of character for him, but he must have sensed something was wrong and came charging to the rescue. At least, as much as a Vulcan would, anyway. It was fortunate that he did; we could have lost you."

Trip shook his head and replayed the incident in his mind. There was something nagging at him, like a sore tooth, something that happened just before the attack. Something had warned him, made him aware of his surroundings, more than his usual sharp senses could convey. What had it been? It was like a memory, just floating out of reach...

_Memory_. He sat up bolt upright. _That's it. Some kind of memory, but..._he frowned as he realized, _Wait a minute...it can't be _my _memory. I've walked in the Australian Outback before at night, but not like _that_. And what I felt and saw and heard...it's all _wrong_. If it _ain't _mine, then whose _is _it?_

"Trip?" Jonathan turned from furious to concerned in a blink of an eye. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking. "Jon, where's Soval? I've gotta talk to him. It's kinda urgent—"

A calm voice made both of them look at the doorway. "Ensign Tucker," said Ambassador Soval. Although the Vulcan's face was calm, there was strain in his eyes. Strain and something else that Trip had never seen before in a Vulcan.

_Fear. What's he scared of? He can't be scared of _me, _can he?_

And a ghost of a smile flittered across Soval's lips, as if Soval had heard his thoughts. "Ensign Tucker—Trip—I must speak with you. I believe I have something here—" he tapped his temple with a slender finger, "—that may belong to you."

* * *

**Trip's Quarters, _Enterprise_**

Silence fell over the listeners in Trip's cabin. No one even moved for a long minute. Then T'Pol stared at Trip with that "putting-it-together" expression of hers and said, "Bleedthrough."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows and said, "Certain Humans are particularly esper-sensitive, but it's not the norm. Lieutenant Commander—Trip--I assume you were given the standard tests when you entered Starfleet?"

"Sure was, Doc. I tested out normal. That was why we were all flabbergasted at how the hell it happened." Trip glanced at Jon, who shrugged. "Jon, didn't one of the Healers—T'Inya, I think it was—think proximity had somethin' to do with it?"

Jon nodded and addressed both Malcolm and Phlox in particular. Both men looked interested in the possibility. "That's her theory. I think a good bit of it is just learning to read people. The more you work with someone, the better you know their habits and quirks. But to the point where it actually changes your brain chemistry? Maybe, but there isn't any actual proof."

Malcolm had a gleam in his eye, one that Trip had seen before. He sighed and gave the doctor a weak smile. "Lemme guess. Sometime soon, you want me in Sickbay and hooked up to some of your brain scannin' stuff."

"I assure you, it won't hurt a bit, Trip. It may give you a bit of a tickle, though—"

Trip groaned as the others laughed. "That makes me feel so much better, Doc. Anyway, what happened next might give ya some basis for your theory..."

* * *

**March 17/18, 2144, Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco**

Soval exercised ambassadorial prerogative and ordered the room closed to everyone, save Jon Archer, Doctor T'Inya, Doctor Ayakamura, and Major T'Lydya. Nate Kemper insisted on staying, and Trip refused to do anything without his presence, so Soval relented. It was close to midnight when everything was settled.

"Nathan, Jonathan, please be vigilant," Soval said. "If there is any sign of distress, assist the doctors. Major T'Lydya, I understand you are well-versed in the traditional mental techniques?"

T'Lydya nodded and replied, "Yes, Ambassador, I am."

"Very well. Will you serve as Ensign Tucker's 'ground' while Doctor T'Inya will serve as mine?"

"Certainly, Ambassador." The major moved over to Trip' side and gave him a look of reassurance. The cold expression had completely melted, and she used the same tone she'd used to talk to T'Saiya. "Do not worry, Ensign. This will be resolved momentarily."

"No offense, Major, but I'll be glad to get this resolved as soon as possible. This thing makes me nervous as all get-out."

She nodded. "That is understandable."

Soval addressed Trip again. "Use whatever techniques you know to calm yourself. I will attempt to join your mind."

"Okay." He closed his eyes and went through the calming exercises he'd learned when he was in the aikido dojo. _Breathe in, breathe out, from your center. Be rooted, like the ancient tree. Focus your concentration inward..._

"Trip, open your eyes for a moment."

He did and was puzzled at Soval's strange expression. "What's wrong?"

"In your security training, were you taught how to withstand mental coercion?"

"Um...somewhat, but it probably wouldn't hold out long against someone a lot stronger than I am," he admitted. "Is there a problem?"

Soval gazed at him with (for a Vulcan) a perplexed expression. "I am having difficulty gaining access to your thoughts. We will have to take a different approach." He glanced at Jon. "Jonathan, talk to him. Trip, focus on his voice."

Jon frowned and asked, "What should I say?"

"Anything. Tell him a tale, perhaps."

"Okay." Jon nodded at Trip, who closed his eyes again. "Let me tell you about my dad, and his dream to go among the stars...he studied aerospace engineering at Virginia Tech and then at MIT. He was interested in the past to shape the future; he didn't care about cultural barriers, really, so when the Vulcans offered to share their information, he jumped at the chance. I suppose he approached engineering and ship-building like a religion...with respect and reverence, no matter where it came from..."

Trip could see that. As Jon described his father, Trip heard the awe and hero-worship in the diplomat's voice. He had actually met the venerable Henry Archer once, at a lecture at the University of Florida, and he had been practically tongue-tied as he had shook Archer's hand. In fact, Trip had considered switching his concentration from security to engineering right there. Then Henry Archer had said something that made an impression on him:

"Engineers aren't a dime a dozen, Charles, but goodSecurity officers are even rarer. A Security officer with a decent engineering background is almost impossible to find. You need to be well-rounded, Charles. It will benefit you greatly in the future."

And of course, Archer had been right. Trip used his engineering background in good stead in weapons and defense development. Many of the design engineers he worked with lacked the real-life, practical applications of their inventions. The security officers lacked the understanding of the workings of their firearms. "As long as it works," was the general attitude.

Trip snorted in derision, and the unseen observer agreed with him. Such thoughts were short-sighted and caused more harm than good. _Closed minds, closed hearts. _The ancient Vulcan maxim floated to the surface of his thoughts. How many Vulcans had chosen to ignore such practical wisdom?

* * *

The mental picture changed. Trip was once again in the desert, but he wasn't a young child watching out for dangerous _le'matyas_. He was older, an adult, and he stood in a stone pavilion, with his family behind him, standing across from a woman wearing a nearly transparent gown and a veil, and between them the Vulcan priestess—

Trip felt a surge of heat through his blood as he gazed at the woman, _T'Rhea_, her name was; gazed upon her like a hungry dog would stare at a juicy bone. He could feel her response...and suddenly, Trip identified what had caused T'Saiya to "go crazy", and why Jon had been adamant that T'Saiya _not _touch him...

_This is a private thing among Vulcans. Outworlders should not know about this, _the observer said with a tinge of embarrassment and unease. _This is a Time when logic fails us, and the basest of emotions overwhelm us. It is considered...distasteful, but it is the price we pay for suppressing our emotions._

_If y'all didn't suppress 'em, you wouldn't have to go through this, _Trip retorted, as another pleasurable shiver went through him.

_Emotions are not logical._

_The hell they aren't. If ya'll dig deep enough, they have their own kind of logic._

A spark of reluctant curiosity, then the mental landscape changed again. _Can you explain _this _to me, then? _A mist came over them, with the unmistakable tang of the sea. Trip found himself on a boat in the Gulf, taking watch at the wheel. He knew this place, and knew what was going to happen...and he felt the sharp surge of fear.

_Oh no, _no, _not this. Oh God, not this. I wouldn't want anyone to experience this memory..._

_I don't understand this...this frightens me, Trip. I don't understand..._

* * *

There was a sharp shriek at the stern of the boat and his heart froze at the anguished sound. _Lizzie! Oh my God, what is she doin' _awake? His training kicked in and he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Woman overboard! Woman overboard!"

Another cry, this time from his mother. "Lizzie slipped and fell overboard! I can't see her!"

Trip's hands tightened on the wheel. He wanted to charge into the Gulf and search for Lizzie, but his post was at the wheel, at the helm. His heart was torn in two. What to do?

"Honey, where are you? We can't see you!"

"I'm here, Momma! I'm here! The water's so cold, Momma! I'm tryin' to tread water, but it's so cold and I'm so tired!"

"Keep callin' so we can find ya! Alexandra, throw a life preserver in her direction." Charles Tucker Junior, Trip's father, shouted back in a calm voice. Trip heard the suppressed terror; his youngest daughter was somewhere out there, in the darkness, and although she was a good swimmer, an eight-year-old wouldn't last long in the freezing water...

"Yes, Daddy." Alexandra Tucker, Trip's older sister, seized a life preserver, listened for Lizzie's cries, then threw it in her sister's direction. "Lizzie, swim for it!"

"Where is it, Alex? I can't see it!"

Lizzie yelled and screamed at the top of her lungs. Trip closed his eyes to hear better. Wait a minute...there, to starboard, to the right, was that—?

A bright light erupted from the starboard side of the family boat. "There she is!" cried Alex. She pointed at an area lit by the cone of the searchlight. "She's over there! I can just make out her life jacket—"

"Momma, Daddy, hurry!_" _Lizzie shrieked.

"Calm down, we can see you," Alex called out. "Look to your left; there's the life preserver. Can you get to it?"

"I'll-I'll try, Alex. My arms and legs are goin numb..."

Charles hollered up to Trip at the helm. "Twenty degrees starboard, son! Take it nice and slow! We gotta get to her, and you're the one to do it!"

"Yes, sir!" Trip shouted back. He fired up the engines, glad for its steady hum, and slowly turned the wheel in the direction his father indicated. Under his steady hand, the boat crept through the darkness towards his sister...

"Okay, son, full stop!"

"Full stop, aye!" Trip cut the engine.

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. Charles and Trip's younger brother Eddie fished a soaked and shivering Lizzie out of the water. They immediately took her below and into a warm bath to bring up her body temperature, then Elaine Tucker dressed her in warm, dry clothes and bundled her up in blankets. Alexandra heated some hot cocoa in mugs and passed them to her brothers, sister, mother and father.

The entire time, Trip didn't leave his post at the helm. Alex pressed the mug into his hands and said, "Go below, Trip. I'll take care of things up here. Go on, Lizzie needs you." He didn't have to be told twice. He flew down the narrow stairs to the lower deck and sprinted toward the cabin that Lizzie and Alex shared in the aft section of the boat.

Lizzie sat in her bunk, her eyes wide with drowsiness, clutching the blankets all around her. Elaine and Charles sat on either side of her. Charles smiled as he saw Trip and he whispered, "Lizzie, Trip's here."

Lizzie sniffled and said, "I'm sorry, I—"

"S'okay, Lizzie. I'm just glad you're all right." Trip sat down, put his mug on the night table and gripped his sister's hands. "What were ya doin' up, anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep and I wanted to see what ya were doin'," Lizzie murmured. She was fading fast, now that the adrenalin rush was over. "I musta slipped and fell over the railin'...I didn't mean—"

"Things happen. S'okay. Just get some rest, Lizzie. We can talk in the mornin'."

Her voice was little more than a sigh. "Okay, Trip." Then just before she fell asleep, she murmured, "Thanks for rescuin' me."

"You'd do the same f'me," Trip whispered back.

Eventually, Alex and Eddie came in to watch Lizzie so their parents could get some well-deserved rest, but Trip never left his sister's side. In fact, he fell asleep there, holding her hands.

* * *

_There ain't nothin' to explain, _Trip told the unseen observer.

_You could have rushed to your sister's aid, yet you did not,_ the voice said, a tinge of respect and understanding in his voice. _Most Humans I know would have done so immediately._

He gave another mental snort at the image of Jonathan Archer, diving off the pier to save Trip's life. _Not that I didn't want to, and not that I didn't think about it. I _wanted _to dive in and save Lizzie. She's my _sister_. But I couldn't leave the wheel unattended. _Someone _had to steer the ship to get to her. I helped rescue her too, just in a different way._

_Family means so much to you, does it not?_

Trip swallowed a lump in his throat. _Yeah._

_I understand now. Yes, there is an elegant...logic in the emotions you felt at the time. Thank you for such a valuable gift, Trip. I understand._

He was stunned. Soval considered this, one of his worst memories, as a gift? Then he realized that this provided Soval some insight into Human behavior. Soval's memory of the marriage ceremony helped explain T'Saiya's "attack" on him, and the "desert memory" had been a test, a that he now better understood. The inadvertent memory transfer had been a blessing, in a roundabout way.

_You're welcome. And thanks for the "gifts" in kind._

* * *

Slowly, Trip became aware of the "real" world. Major T'Lydya dropped her hand from Trip's face as Doctor T'Inya did the same for Soval. Trip suddenly felt the tears coursing down his cheeks; he reached up and scrubbed at them. As his vision cleared, he saw the Jon was crying too, and Nate looked somewhat stricken, and Trip wondered just _how_ much he'd said aloud while in the meld.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, turned and saw T'Lydya with compassion in her eyes. She did not cry, but the dark amber-gold eyes had lost their hard edge. Trip felt a warm wave of reassurance flow from her into him, and it eased the heartache somewhat.

"Are you uninjured, Trip?"

He nodded, noticing that Soval had called him by his name, not his rank. "Yeah, I'm okay. Wow, if that's what you got from me, no wonder you were confused."

A hint of a smile passed over Soval's lips. He looked like he'd aged ten years in a half an hour, but there was a sense of peace that hadn't been there before. "It was...puzzling, but it was also quite...enlightening. We should both rest, Trip. There are important issues that we must address in the morning."

Trip nodded and yawned. T'Lydya helped him lie down on the cot. By the time the others had left the room, he was already fast asleep, and dreaming of a planet with red deserts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: Who's the mystery guy? You find out who it is...and it isn't who you might have expected. More clues to a possible threat to Human/Vulcan diplomatic relations, and other familiar names pop up in unfamiliar places.**

**For those unfamiliar with distances in CA: the University of Southern California at Berkley is approximately 5-6 hours south (-ish) of San Francisco. Stanford University (Jon Archer's alma mater) is approximately an hour east of S.F. And the exact distance between S.F. and USC? Had to Google it. I'm not a Vulcan, so I don't remember that kinda stuff. LOL**

**Rating: T**

**Please R&R. Thanks.**

* * *

**Five**

_**Trip's Quarters, Enterprise**_

Trip paused in his story to take a long gulp of his bourbon. He'd deliberately left out the vision of Soval's marriage ceremony, his "pon farr", for the sake of Vulcan privacy; he'd only glossed over it, going into detail about his memory on the boat. The only two who would know the truth were Jon and T'Pol. Jon wouldn't breathe a word of it, and T'Pol respected his and Soval's privacy.

"Fascinating," Phlox murmured. "So the ambassador experienced your memory from your point of view? Every sensation, every reaction?"

"That was what he said." Trip shook his head and added, "It seemed that we were mentally linked at the time, and my fall into the water had triggered the memory for him. In return, his Vulcan senses alerted me and Nate Kemper to our so-called 'friend'."

"Who was the guy who tried to kill you?" Travis asked. "And why?"

Trip took another sip and swallowed. "That's the weird part."

* * *

**Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, March 18, 2144**

Trip surveyed the man attached to the biomonitor with a cold, dispassionate eye. The suspect was of medium height, with snow-white hair stuck up in the air, and blue eyes sparkling with a hint of madness. He didn't seem bothered at the fact that his arms and legs were in restraints, or at the Vulcan Healers who hovered nearby. In fact, his soft voice was one of extreme politeness, but the detachment in it made Trip shiver.

"He is a rather unusual man," Major T'Lydya commented as she stood next to Trip.

"No kiddin'," he agreed. "Do we have a name for him?"

"According to the Earth database, his name is Doctor Arik Soong," T'Lydya answered in a cool professional tone. "He is currently the chair of biomedicine and genetics at the University of Southern California at Berkley. His work in those particular fields have earned him many accolades and awards, and the respect of his peers." T'Lydya raised an eyebrow. "Up until this incident, Doctor Soong has never been in violation of the law. In fact, he was considered a model citizen."

"I take it he never played football for USC. He'd make a great defensive lineman," Trip muttered under his breath. She chose not to respond to his comment. "He doesn't appear to have any remorse for his attack."

T'Lydya sighed silently, then said, "That is because he does not seem to have any recollectionof his attempt."

"No memory of it? Not a trace?" The possibility left a bad taste in Trip's mouth. "Meaning someone deliberately erased it? Or gave him a neural block?"

"The Healers have considered both options, Ensign. They are evaluating the scans of the doctor's brain as we speak."

"Can we talk to him?"

She nodded. "He has been asking for you in particular, Ensign. I believe he wishes to apologize."

T'Lydya followed him as he stepped into the room. Doctor Soong looked up and his expression brightened at his visitors. "Ensign Tucker? I am sorry for what happened last night. I would try to explain myself and my actions, if I could remember."

"The Healers told me you had difficulty," Trip said carefully. "Tell me, Doctor—"

"Arik, please." The scientist's eyes sobered. "I doubt I'll be allowed to retain my title and position once news of this gets out."

"Arik, what doyou remember?"

Soong bit his lip, then answered, "I was on campus, walking home from a roundtable discussion with my colleagues and my students. I was waiting for the next transport at the station, I remember getting onto the transport...and the next thing I know, I'm at the Marina and I'm running towards you and I feel a sting in my back. It all went dark...I know I hit water—"

"Whoever erased your memory did so between Berkley and San Francisco," assumed T'Lydya. "That is approximately three-hundred and eighty six point eight miles or six hundred and twenty two point four nine kilometers."

Trip scowled at T'Lydya's overly precise calculations. "That's a lot of distance between 'em, about three hours by fast shuttle. Plenty of time for whoever did it."

Soong nodded. "I've racked my brain, trying to remember, but it's all a blank."

"Did you feel a needle prick? Did you feel any strange symptoms before gettin' on the transport?"

Soong shook his head. "I don't remember, if I did or not."

"Whoever assaulted you knew you would be on the transport at that particular time. Who was at this roundtable discussion?" asked T'Lydya.

"There were nine people, excluding myself. I can give you a list of who attended. Two of them were a brother-sister team, Doctors Quinn and Danica Erickson."

Trip's eyes widened. "The Ericksons? Didn't they work with their father on the first matter transporter?"

"Yes, Danica worked on the molecular converter for the pattern buffer, while Quinn helped the Vulcans sort out the filters for biotransport. Verycrucial to putting your atoms back together in the right places," Soong replied, with the pride of a grandfather. "Brilliant duo; Emory was very proud of them. I was their sponsor for their doctorate programs."

"Doctor Erickson—Quinn, I mean—he worked with the Vulcans?"

"Indeed. Quinn has a completely rational, logical mind. If it weren't for the ears, I would've thought he was Vulcan himself." Soong chuckled at the thought. "He speaks the language with all its nuances. I believe he had teamed up with a colleague to present a paper on the Vulcan physiology...a Doctor Malcolm Reed, I believe."

"Doctor Reed?" Trip repeated, as T'Lydya's eyebrows shot up.

"Do you know him, Ensign? Quite the researcher, I'd say—"

Trip smiled. "I know of him, but I've never met the guy. So Quinn Erickson worked closely with the Vulcans. What about Danica Erickson?"

Soon sighed and answered, "I suppose Danica was jealous of the time he spent with the Vulcans. She didn't enjoy their company, not one bit. Then again, she's always been highly emotional. Very Human, Danica is. I think the final straw was when Quinn was considering a Vulcan wife. He ended up not doing it, of course, but that damaged his relationship with his sister. It's only recently they've mended fences. In fact, it was Danica's idea to attend the roundtable with her brother."

Trip caught T'Lydya's expression of unease. "Did anyone else share Danica's views of the Vulcans?"

"A few, but they weren't quite as vocal. It was just a matter of personal preference, Ensign. Some people on Earth still believe they're the center of the universe." Soong shrugged. "Though I know Danica like my own daughter. I don't think she'd ever cross the line between words and action. Emory instilled a strong sense of ethics in both his children. I think Danica would be horrified at the thought of harming anyone, Human, Vulcan or otherwise."

Trip nodded. The scientist was chatty and not ashamed to provide information, even if it was somewhat personal...and even if the subjects weren't present. That really bothered him; it made him wonder just what Soong would disclose if the price was right. T'Lydya looked rather uncomfortable, and Trip hated to put her through this, but he needed more information.

For Danica Erickson's name was on the list Captain Harris had given him.

"Tell me about the other people who were at this discussion, Arik. It could be that one of them might know something about what happened to you...and we'd need to talk to 'em fast."

* * *

Later, that morning, Trip requested an urgent meeting with Soval, Jon, Carlos Ramirez and Major T'Lydya. Soval had anticipated his request, and had set aside a conference room for that purpose. There were advantages to being mind-linked, Trip considered ruefully.

He and T'Lydya took turns in their report, making sure not to forget any piece of information. Soval sat next to Trip, his hands pressed together and fingers steepled, with a grave expression on his face. Jon looked impassive, but his eyes were hard emeralds. Ramirez shifted in his seat; his broad features reflecting turmoil.

"If Doctor Soong is telling the truth, then we are dealing with more than just a group of disgruntled individuals," Soval said quietly. "It appears that there is a well-organized and efficient organization."

Jon nodded and said, "This contact you met—Jeremiah? Can you get in contact with him again, Trip?"

He shrugged. "I think so. Corporal Lee Doumaides knows him and Lee would know where he is. He hinted that he had background information about this group and he was willing to share it."

"Talk to him. See what he has to say. Carlos, I want you to cover him," Jon said.

"What about Nate Kemper?" Trip asked.

"I have another assignment for him," Jon replied. "I'm sending him and a team as an escort for Doctor Soong back to USC Berkley. Corporal McVegran and Crewman Niemas are familiar with the campus, and they'll be able to talk to some of their old friends there." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've got connections at my alma mater; I'll chat with the Stanford chancellor and see how widespread this movement is."

"And Major T'Lydya and I will warn other Vulcans and outworlders on the Consulate grounds," Soval said, "I will also talk with Security Minister T'Pau about this matter as well. This is too important to hide from her; it could potentially damage Vulcan/Human relations."

Jon nodded. "Agreed. Nothing we've discussed goes out of this room, understood?"

Everyone agreed, then the meeting dispersed. Captain Ramirez caught up with Trip in the outer hall. "I'll call Doumaides—"

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but I think I should do it." At Ramirez's expression, Trip clarified, "He'd get suspicious if his commanding officer asked him about this. He was the one who steered me to Jeremiah in the first place."

Ramirez nodded. "All right, we'll do it your way, but I'm monitoring you every step of the way."

Trip nodded back, grateful for Ramirez's confidence in him. He only hoped that faith was justified.

* * *

**Trip's Quarters, _Enterprise_**

"Quinn was a good man," Malcolm said in a quiet tone. "He knew how to relate to complete strangers. He was the powerhouse behind most of the joint Human/Vulcan biomedical projects of the time. I was only his assistant."

T'Pol turned to him with a hint of a smile. "Do not deny your own contributions to those projects, Doctor Reed. I believe Doctor Erickson looked up to you like a mentor."

"It was rather the other way around, T'Pol."

Travis sighed and shook his head. "A pity what happened to him, though. I would've loved to have met him in person."

"What happened to him?" Jon asked. "I thought I heard something about a transporter accident—"

Malcolm shook his head, obviously unwilling to relive the memory. Hoshi squeezed his arm in reassurance, causing Trip and T'Pol to exchange another glance. The captain seemed unaware of her gesture.

"Quinn volunteered to be one of the first ones to use the transporter. He said that it was illogical to ask someone to test it if its creator wasn't willing to go through it himself. His father had tried it and was successful, and Emory was enthusiastic about his son's sense of adventure, so Quinn didn't expect any problems."

Phlox's voice was just as quiet. "Something went wrong."

"Yes, Commander. Something went wrong." The corner of Malcolm's mouth turned up in a bitter expression. "Quinn failed to materialize at his destination. It was the final straw; Danica and her father had a very public argument and they broke off contact. Emory died not long afterwards."

"Oh, man," Travis breathed.

"Ironically, it was a problem with the molecular converter, the same piece of equipment that Danica Erickson had assisted with," Phlox added. "Her theory was sound, but the engineers had misaligned some critical components. She blamed the members of the engineering group as well. A group comprised of mainly Vulcan and Denobulan engineers."

Another heavy silence fell over Trip's quarters. Then Phlox answered the unspoken question. "No, I was not with that group, but several of my colleagues were. They took the shame with them back to Denobula."

Trip nodded. Phlox had used the Denobulan euphemism for the Terran equivalent of _hari-kiri_, ritual suicide. "None of us knew what the future held for them," he said. "At the time I was at the Consulate, Danica and Quinn had worked with the Vulcans for a few years. I hadn't known just how well connected some of them were, especially one man in particular..."

* * *

**O'Charley's Bar, San Francisco, March 18, 2144**

"Over here, Tucker, and ditch your friends. I want to speak with you alone."

Jeremiah leaned against the doorway leading to the basement stairs. He looked like a lazy tiger, casual yet coiled to strike. Trip regarded him with a wary expression. How did he know? Lee gave him a questioning look.

"You want me to get lost, Trip? I don't trust you alone with him, where I can't see you."

"Have a couple at the bar for me, Lee. I'll be right back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be okay. I'll holler if I need help." Trip knew that Ramirez wasn't going to be thrilled with him wandering off by himself with Jeremiah, but he had the stealth communication system set up on his body, so Ramirez could track him.

Lee shrugged casually, then headed for the bar. Jeremiah gestured for Trip to precede him down the stairs. As Trip passed him, Jeremiah reached over and switched off the tiny button behind Trip's ear. The sudden touch made Trip jump and he whirled around to face Jeremiah.

"I told you to ditch your friends. Plural. What I gotta say is between you and me, no one else, even if the other one's your commanding officer." He inclined his head towards the stairway and Trip began the slow climb down. Jeremiah had deactivated the most obvious comm circuit, but Trip had a back-up circuit implanted in his inner ear. Ramirez was one who believed in redundancy.

Trip hid a smile. If Jeremiah was half as good, wouldn't he have expected that Trip had an alternative means of communication? "I thought you were an engineer."

"I was, but that isn't the only job I've held in my lifetime," Jeremiah said with a slight smirk. "You know the saying 'it takes one to know one'?"

"You're Starfleet Security," Trip whispered in a hushed voice.

"Kind of. I've got connections, enough to know that Harris tried to worm himself into your confidence." Jeremiah's voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undertone. "He isn't who he seems. And I know enough to warn you that Diplomat Archer and Ambassador Soval are in danger."

Trip glanced over his shoulder. "You'd better start from the beginning, Jeremiah...if that's your real name."

He laughed. "Actually, it is. I've never lied to you, Tucker."

"Just omitted a couple of things."

"Like you haven't been guilty of the same in your career?"

"We're not talkin' about me." Trip bit off the rest of what he was going to say. Jeremiah was testing him, trying to get under his skin, and Trip wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

They emerged in a dining area, dominated by a long table with chairs on both sides. Trip stopped so suddenly that Jeremiah nearly ran into him. The table was empty, but at one end sat an ordinary-looking man; ordinary, at least, until you saw the steel in his eyes, the suppressed rage in his frame. Trip suddenly wondered if this guy could take both him andJeremiah in a fight.

"Hello, Mister Tucker," said the man as he regarded Trip with a cold smile. "My name is John Paxton. Welcome to Terra Prime."

* * *

Trip sat through the most difficult half an hour of his life. Not only did he hide his anger and disgust at the self-serving rhetoric that Paxton spouted, but he had to hide his fear as the man knew every bit of Trip's service record, even the events that were kept strictly "off the record."

He watched Jeremiah out of the corner of his eye; the man said nothing, only watched Paxton with the manner of a hawk. It confirmed Trip's assumption that Jeremiah had been in Starfleet Security at one point, but he didn't think Jeremiah was part of them now.

_Special Ops? Or is there some kinda group that I don't know about? _Trip wondered. And was the mysterious Jeremiah the one who dug up the information for Paxton? If so, that meant that Jeremiah had access to the highest echelons of Starfleet Security. And such a man was working for Paxton and his group, this Terra Prime?

_This is a major breach. I bet heads'll roll at Starfleet Command when they find out about this. _Trip glanced sideways at Jeremiah; whose side was the man on? He'd warned Trip about a threat to Archer and Soval, and now he acted as Paxton's loyal bodyguard. A double agent of some sort?

_Damn, I'm kinda glad I don't have _his _job, if that's the case. _

"Jeremiah's vouched for you, Ensign Tucker, as well as Lee. You showed restraint after a 'sick' Vulcan attacked you, but tell me, if the Vulcan would have tried to hurt Diplomat Archer, would you have shot her?"

Trip raised his eyebrows, and told the truth as closely as he would have dared. He had the feeling his answer would make or break him. "I would have defended Diplomat Archer by any means necessary. It's my job to protect him."

"And would you have allowed Doctor Soong to drown, even if he had tried to kill _you_?"

"I'm sworn to protect life, Mister Paxton, even Soong's." Trip didn't miss Paxton's sarcastic smirk at the academic's name. "Even if the man had a screw loose somewhere."

"You protect life? Human life?"

Trip forced himself to answer calmly, even if his stomach twisted into knots. _What the hell kind of a question is _that? "Part of the contract, Mister Paxton."

Paxton chuckled and shrugged. "True. We need you for a very important assignment, Ensign. Our world is poised at the edge of change, and we need a catalyst to launch our new campaign. Jeremiah, as good as an assassin as he is on his own—" and here, Paxton acknowledged Jeremiah with a look of respect. Jeremiah's green eyes flashed dangerously, but he said nothing. "—he doesn't have the access or the connections to get onto the Consulate grounds."

"But I do," Trip said, with a sudden realization. _Oh, damn. Is he gonna ask me what I _think _he's gonna ask me? _

"That's right, Ensign. We have a problem with a few people who want to give away our power to the Vulcans, and unfortunately, they are at the highest level of the Consulate's office." Paxton's eyes glittered like a spider's. "We need someone to eliminate Diplomat Archer and Ambassador Soval...immediately."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: Yup, Trip is officially in trouble. Superman is owned by DC Comics, while Captain Britain is owned by Marvel UK. Can you find a small mention lifted from "Shuttlepod One"?**

**Rating: T**

**Please R&R Thanks.

* * *

**

Six

_**Trip's Quarters, Enterprise**_

Jon Archer choked on his bourbon, T'Pol's eyes widened a fraction, Malcolm and Travis stared at Trip with a dumbstruck expression, Hoshi's pretty features darkened like a thundercloud, and Phlox only gave him a look of interest.

"Wait a minute," Jon wheezed and coughed as he put his glass down on Trip's desk with a deliberate movement. "You were the one who—"

"Yeah, that was me. Not exactly proud of myself, Jon, but I had to save you and Soval," Trip admitted with a sheepish smile. "It was the lesser of two evils, you understand."

T'Pol's tone was frosty, but not because of anger. "Are you endangering yourself by telling us this tale, Lieutenant Commander?"

Trip winced at the use of his rank, but replied, "No. Everyone who might've known...isn't around anymore. With a couple of exceptions, and both of them kept their mouth shut." He glanced at Hoshi. "Don't look at me like that, Hoshi. I didn't have anythin' to do with that_, _either. And Matt's innocent in that too."

Hoshi looked ready to snap Trip's neck, since Matt Hayes wasn't available at the moment. "Matt never told me about this. Classified?"

"Very much so," Trip replied. He knew why Malcolm, sitting next to Hoshi, was so tense. Malcolm had never really liked Matt Hayes, and didn't cherish the fact that Hoshi was romantically involved with _Columbia_'s captain.

Despite himself, Trip remembered the words of Diplomat Saphia Daro, the Betazoid ambassador. _"He is her _imzadi_, and he hers. Any other path will only bring her pain." _Malcolm glanced sideways at Hoshi, who refused to look directly at him. Trip hoped the doctor wouldn't snap like a rubber band.

"I know that he had to keep things from me, as part of his job," Hoshi said, her tone still quiet. "I've learned not to ask questions, and he won't have to tell me any lies."

Trip nodded, sympathetic. "I don't suggest you bring it up to Matt the next time you see him. It's not exactly something he's proud of. The mysterious 'Jeremiah' has been officially dead for ten years. In fact, when I met Commander Hayes, I didn't make the connection at first, because Matt was the exact opposite of the Jeremiah I knew. In fact, I was convinced that Matt had an evil twin brother or something."

"Quite the actor, then," Malcolm said.

Trip raised an eyebrow, then said, "Doc, don't be so quick to judge. You weren't there."

"And this man is the captain of Starfleet's second Warp 5 ship?"

Travis looked ready to jump to Hayes's defense, but Hoshi interrupted, "That's enough, Malcolm. Whatever Matt—and Trip—have done in the past stays in the past."

Malcolm nodded, but grudgingly. Jon cleared his throat and asked, "Trip, I can understand why you kept quiet, but how did you—"

Trip grinned and tapped his temple. "I had help."

* * *

**Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, March 18, 2144**

Trip and Lee returned to the Consulate in time for lunch. The whole fifteen-minute walk from the bar felt like a surreal dream to Trip. Lee took one look at his face when he emerged from the basement, ordered a stiff drink, and made him drink it. Considering Trip didn't feel drunk was a sure sign of how distracted he was.

He shook his head and thought, _I sure as hell can't afford to be distracted now, of all times._

The guard at the door was Third Officer Somek, the young Vulcan man who'd greeted trip on his initial arrival at the Consulate. Somek gave both Trip and Lee a cordial bow. "Ensign, Corporal, welcome back."

"Thank you, Third Officer Somek," Trip replied. "Is Diplomat Archer around?"

Somek raised an eyebrow at the colloquialism, but only answered, "Diplomat Archer is 'around', but he is currently in an emergency meeting with Ambassador Soval. Shall I inform him that you have returned, Ensign?"

"No, that's all right. I'll stop by his office later. Thanks."

Trip went straight to his office, Lee right behind him. He gestured for Lee to close the door after them and whispered hoarsely, "Bugs?"

Lee understood the question and raised a finger to his lips. Quietly, he crossed to the com system built into the wall, undid the latch and fiddled with the circuits inside. After a few moments, he nodded and replaced the panel. "No one can overhear us now, Trip."

"Good." He didn't bother to tell Lee about the spy device in his own ear. He guessed that Jon, Soval and Ramirez had overheard his meeting with Jeremiah and Paxton, and that was the cause of the 'emergency meeting'.

"Did Paxton offer you the big job?"

Trip nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"You gonna do it? It's gonna be impossible to hide anything from these Vulcans."

"That's why I don't plan on sittin' on this for very long, Lee." He bit his lip and thought hard. "I'm gonna have to ask you for some help. I haven't been here that long and I'm still unfamiliar with some of the security systems around here."

A smile played on the corporal's lips. "I know of some people who could help, Trip. Once they hear you're on our side, they'll be willing to give you anything you need."

Trip remembered Nate Kemper's remark about how many of the Security contingent were clearly on the "pro-Human" side and his stomach clenched in dread. "Can any of them get around the systems connected with Archer's and Soval's offices?"

"With their eyes closed and their hands tied behind their backs," Lee bragged with a smirk. "We've got a munitions guy with us too, if you decide to go that route."

"Depends if we want a lot of collateral damage or not," Trip said, trying to keep his voice casual. "It'd make a statement, but we'd still have to clean up the mess."

Lee raised his eyebrows. "I thought Paxton wanted a big statement."

"He's not a security officer. Big statement equals early detection and an early grave," Trip snapped. "Major T'Lydya would be on our asses as quick as a Hyberian saberfish. Now a stealth attack—" Trip lifted a finger to forestall Lee's protest, "—especially one that can't be traced, that'll strike fear in the hearts of everyone, including the Vulcans. Suddenly, they'll realize that even they aren't safe in their own inner sanctum."

_Aw, geez, I sound like every bad movie villain there ever was! _Trip thought with an inner wince. _Lex Luthor, eat your heart out. I sure as hell don't feel as heroic as Superman. Hell, _Supe _would be on my ass too._

Lee didn't seem to notice; he only nodded at Trip's reasoning. "Good point. So what are you thinking?"

"Got any ninja training?" Trip half-joked.

"Nope, but I can find someone who probably does."

He stared at Lee's innocent look. "And you're only a corporal?"

"This time out, anyway. I'm a lot more experienced than I look." This wasn't a brag, Trip realized, but a simple statement of fact. "So...we're talking what? Poison? Needles?"

Trip stared at him. "This time out? What are you, really?"

Lee sighed and shook his head. "Technically, I outrank you, Ensign, and it's only because I like you that I'm letting you run the show. Jeremiah and Paxton seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to have given you this assignment with just one glance."

Trip realized his mouth was hanging open and he closed it firmly. "I hope you aren't envious, Lee, 'cause I plan to include you every step of the way."

"Envious, me?" The charming smile was back and Lee appeared as the young, naive corporal once more. "Nah. I'm more than willing to let you lead."

"Thanks a lot," Trip said mildly. "Anyways...you were talkin' about ways of...assassination?" The word left a bad taste in Trip's mouth. "Somethin' subtle."

"There's a Vulcan maneuver called _tal-shaya _that's pretty quick." Lee demonstrated with his hands.

"I'm sure Soval's trained in that kinda thing and I know for a fact that Vulcans are a lot stronger and faster than Humans. Dunno 'bout you, but I like my neck where it is." He unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke.

Suddenly, unbidden, images came across his eyes. Images that Trip knew didn't come from hisexperience. _The Vulcan Security Ministry would suggest..._He sent a wordless laugh back to Soval and felt the wicked chuckle that Soval would never allow to be heard by anyone else.

Then he grinned as if something had just occurred to him. Lee gave him a wary look and asked, "Uh-oh. What is it?"

"I've got an idea, Lee. We might have to use your demolitions guy after all, and I think I have a way to get some extra help."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I need Jeremiah."

"Jeremiah isn't cleared to step foot on the Consulate grounds, not with his background of trouble."

Trip's grin widened and Lee actually took a step back at the coldness of it. "Don't worry. I know Diplomat Archer'll help with that, even if he won't be aware he is helping."

* * *

He sent Lee to gather the personnel and equipment they'd need for their "hit". Then he dropped by Jon's office as usual. Trip had to act as if everything was normal, or his cover was blown.

"Hi, Trip," Jon greeted. He smiled, but the worry still shone in his eyes. Archer had to act as if he knew nothing of the attempt on his life. "So, did you get in touch with Jeremiah?"

"Sure did." Trip handed him a PADD. "Look, I was thinkin' about invitin' him over to meet you and Soval. He could be a valuable contact, but he needs some protection. He's between a rock and a hard place where he is...and it ain't safe."

Jon nodded and glanced at the information on the PADD. "His life's in danger?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Then he needs a clearance tag. Get it through Major T'Lydya; tell her I authorized it. Are we set for the meeting with Admiral McGee tonight?".

"Yeah. I got the proposed Security assignments right there on the PADD you're holdin'. That is, till it meets your approval and Captain Ramirez's and Major T'Lydya's."

Jon nodded again as he scrolled down the screen. "Got some of the best in your squad covering me and Soval..."

Trip grinned and hoped it looked genuine. "No offense to Admiral McGee, but I gotta do my job, y'know. That's protecting you, especially after you saved my butt the last time. So it's my turn to save you again."

Jon's eyes were suddenly sober. "I trust you will, if the opportunity comes up."

"Don't have to worry about that." Trip accepted the PADD back and tucked it under his arm. "I'll be back a little later when I got everythin' all set up."

"All right, Trip." The diplomat held him with his gaze. "Like I said, I trust you."

Trip only smiled and left the room.

* * *

_**Trip's Quarters, Enterprise**_

Trip deliberately shoved the bottle of bourbon further away from him. Malcolm helped by claiming it and shoving the cork back in the top of the bottle. Then Phlox took it with a grimace and stashed it behind him, where Trip couldn't see it. Jon reached over and put a hand on Trip's arm.

"If this is difficult for you, you don't have to finish the story," he said kindly. There were nods all around, and even Malcolm wore a sympathetic look on his face. "It's late, and I know that some of us have the early shift tomorrow."

Trip shrugged and made a gesture with his hand. "If any of ya'll are tired, ya can leave any time you want to. I promised T'Pol I'd tell her the story of how I met Soval; it's just pretty complicated. 'Sides, I want to set the story straight: none of ya have to worry about my loyalty to Starfleet and Earth...or Matt Hayes's. We got caught in this mess and had to get ourselves outof it...and Soval and Jon helped us."

Travis shook his head. "I want to hear the end of this one. This is another side of Matt I never even imagined he had. And besides, if it involves Terra Prime—"

"Yes," Phlox added, "it will be prudent to know about them, considering there are still remnants of that splinter group that exist, even a decade later."

"I would be gratified to hear how you and 'Jeremiah' managed to save Soval and Lieutenant Archer from Terra Prime," T'Pol echoed. Her brows came together in confusion. "Though if you might explain one small detail, Trip?"

"Which detail?"

"Who is this 'Lex Luthor'? And this 'Superman'?"

Laughter erupted around the room and broke the tension. T'Pol wore a nonplussed look on her face and Phlox seemed just as confused. Trip said, "Superman is a comic book character, T'Pol. Comic books are like...well, adventure stories, drawn and inked. Lex Luthor was one of Superman's nemeses, and Luthor was always trying to take over the world. Of course, he was never successful."

T'Pol's mouth quirked upwards in distaste. "An infantile form of entertainment for teenaged Human males?"

"Hey!" Trip objected. "I'll have you know there are layers upon layers of subtext in comic books, especially Superman! They are notinfantile!"

Travis howled in laughter at Trip's protest. Hoshi clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes merry. Malcolm was about to make a snarky remark, but Hoshi elbowed him in the ribs just as he was opening his mouth. The doctor glared at her, but held his peace.

"Like you've never read anything about Captain Britain, Malcolm?" Hoshi asked in a low voice.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Captain Britain is considered a patriotic figure among the young. Not like Nelson, mind you, but—"

"Well, Superman is considered a patriotic figure in North America. Give Trip a break."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. Travis finally stopped laughing enough to take a deep breath and Jon pounded him on the back. T'Pol, whose remark had sparked this humorous interlude, only said, "I would be interested in perusing one of your 'comic books', Trip, in the interest of cultural exchange."

"If you'll trade Surak for Superman, ya got a deal," Trip said with a grin. "Well, if ya'll are stayin' till the end, let me warn ya—" and here, his expression sobered, "—I don't consider myself a hero, just someone who just happened to be at the right place at the right time."

* * *

**Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, the evening of March 18, 2144**

Trip sighed and tried not to fidget with the collar of his formal uniform. He waited at the Consulate gates with Third Officer Somek. Somek scanned the street beyond with a sharp eye. Somek, like the rest of the Vulcan contingent of the Consulate, had been briefed by Captain Ramirez and Major T'Lydya about the assassination attempt.

"May I be so bold as to compliment you?" Somek said in a low voice.

"Huh?" Trip blurted out. _Real intelligent, Tucker. You sound really intelligent right now._

"For volunteering for such a difficult assignment. Please know that no matter what the outcome, I will have no doubts as to your intentions."

He chuckled, embarrassed at the praise. He didn't feel worthy of the young Vulcan's words. "I didn't exactly volunteer."

Jeremiah appeared at the gate. He was dressed in a normal Starfleet uniform, with red piping and two solid pips with one empty pip added to the collar. _Lieutenant Commander? _Trip thought the man fit a Starfleet uniform well, even if he technically wasn't in active service anymore. Jeremiah handed his clearance tag to Somek through the gate bars, who swiped it through his PADD. The screen showed green. Trip nodded again and Somek opened the gate for Jeremiah.

"Thank you," Jeremiah said abruptly. Somek only inclined his head in response.

"C'mon, show's startin' in an hour," Trip said. "Told Diplomat Archer 'bout you. He's pretty impressed, even with some of the misunderstandin's on your record."

"Well, I hope you didn't exaggerate some of my finer points," Jeremiah said dryly.

"Nah. Just some of the blunter ones." Trip's offhand remark actually brought a startled laugh from the older man. "We're all ready; I just need to make one more round before Ambassador Soval and Diplomat Archer arrives. If you'll follow me, I can take ya to a place that's kinda comfy."

Trip led Jeremiah to a walled garden near the center of the Consulate. The main fountain threw up sprays of water, only to fall gently back into its basin. Butter-colored flowers floated on its surface. Neat plots of flowers were concentrated in pleasing patterns, and vines crept up the adobe walls. Three members of the Security team were stationed along the walls. They nodded as Trip approached.

"All in order?" Trip asked in his best command tone.

They snapped to attention. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Trip paused and asked, "Has Corporal Kemper come back from USC Berkley yet?"

"No, sir," replied Corporal Trebarre. "They had trouble catching the shuttle back to San Fran. Diplomat Archer sent alternative transport for them."

"So, he won't be back until after the meeting?"

"I assume so, sir."

Trip nodded. "And Kemper promised me a couple of drinks tonight. Ah, well. I suppose I'll just have to take a rain check."

Trebarre grinned. "Andorian ale, sir?"

Trip noticed the hard glint to Jeremiah's eyes as he replied, "You kiddin'? Good old Glenfiddich from the old country. I'll check with you later, Corporal."

"Yes, sir."

Trip quietly went through the halls, making a visual inspection of his teams. Jeremiah was a silent shadow, not saying anything, but observing everything. There was a nervous stir as recognition dawned in some of the Security personnel's faces. No one dared object to Jeremiah's presence. Those who didn't know who he was assumed that he was another Security officer, probably Admiral McGee's man.

And as Trip went through, he nodded at a particular sergeant standing guard duty at the conference room door. "Sergeant Harry Breen, one of the best sharpshooters and bomb guys on the Security detail."

"Sergeant," Jeremiah said with a nod.

"Sir," Breen replied. "All ready for their arrival."

"Good." Trip sighed and glanced at his wrist. "Damn, I left my chronometer in my office. Sergeant, you got the time?"

"Sure, Ensign." Breen pushed his sleeve up and showed Trip an old-fashioned watch. The hands showed six forty-five, with a blinking green light at the base of the watch face, and the sound of a steady "tick-tick" keeping time.

"Thanks, Sergeant."

"You want to borrow my watch?"

"Nah, you don't have to—"

"I insist, sir. You need it more than I do." Breen unsnapped the band and handed the whole thing to Trip. "I just ask that you take good care of it. It's pretty important."

"I sure will," Trip said as he affixed the watch to his own wrist. "Thanks again."

Trip entered the room and pretended to check the security cameras and the sensors. Lee Doumaides hadn't been kidding at Breen's expertise; the six explosives were inconspicuous and practically undetectable to the naked eye. Per Trip's instructions, they had been strategically placed to minimize collateral damage, but were still potentially deadly in the small room.

He tapped the wall comm. "Control room, report."

"Everything's a go, Ensign," came the reply. "We had a little bit of a sensor glitch earlier, but we fixed it. Diagnostics came back clean."

"Sensor glitch?" Trip asked, injecting a tone of worry in his voice. The sergeant heard it and stuck his head in the door. He gave Breen an inquiring look; the sergeant's forehead wrinkled in genuine confusion.

"The diagnostics came back clean, but we can run another one if you want, Ensign."

"Nah, we don't have time before Admiral McGee, Ambassador Soval and Diplomat Archer arrive. Make sure none of the other protocols have been breached."

"Yes, sir. Control room, out."

Trip began to leave the room, but he stopped by Breen and said in a low, menacing voice, "If it doesn't work, you'll be answering to me, Sergeant. Got that?"

Breen looked taken aback, but he modified what he was about to say as he saw Trip's expression. "Yes, sir."

Trip stalked down the hall and turned the corner, with Jeremiah scrambling in his wake. He tried not to betray his trembling hands. _Talk about close. I hope Soval's engineering guys are as good as he says or we're in a lot of trouble. It ain't easy to defuse six bombs undetected and still leave the outer casings intact. _

He glanced at his borrowed watch. _Six fifty. Ten more minutes. I hope Ramirez and T'Lydya's people know what they're doing._

"Time to meet the diplomat," Trip said aloud.

* * *

Jon Archer sat at his desk, making final adjustments to his meeting agenda. Trip rapped on the door frame and waited for Jon's answer. The diplomat managed a smile. "Be right with you, Trip...Ah, this must be Jeremiah?"

"Yes, sir," Jeremiah said in a quiet tone as he accepted Jon's handshake. "Diplomat Archer."

Jon held his gaze. "Starfleet Security?"

"Formerly, sir."

"Good. Trip's going to need as much help as he can get." Jon met Trip's gaze. "I trust this man with my life, so don't piss him off."

A genuine smile flashed onto his face. "I don't plan to, sir."

Then Jon got to his feet. "The Admiral's waiting, gentlemen. Let's go."

Archer's penchant for wandering was well-known at the Consulate. He enjoyed stopping by his fellow diplomats' offices and by some of the junior Vulcans' cubicles. This was no exception. Personally, Trip thought it was a great idea to boost morale. As a security officer, it was annoying as hell. Major T'Lydya had hated this part of Archer's routine. This time, Trip silently thanked Jon's foresight.

As Jon went through his usual routine, Trip watched as the members of the security detail stationed themselves nearby, but not in the way. The only ones who were always around Archer were Trip, Jeremiah and Lee, who had joined them midway through the circuit through the Consulate offices. Lee's eyes widened at the sight of Jeremiah in a Starfleet uniform—and wearing lieutenant commander's pips—but wisely said nothing.

Trip glanced at the watch around his wrist. _Six fifty four_. _Six more minutes. Soval should be at the room by now, with T'Lydya and her people..._

_Trip, you must delay Jonathan for a moment or two longer. _Soval's mind-voice was as clear as a bell, as if the Vulcan was standing right next to him.

_How'm I gonna do that?_ Just as Trip thought the question, his communicator went off. "Damn," he muttered. "Lee, gotta step out. Be right back."

"Sure, Boss," Lee whispered back, with stress on the title.

Trip stepped into the hall and hissed into his communicator, "Tucker. What is it?"

"Ensign," came Kemper's low voice. "Admiral McGee's chief of staff reports the admiral's delayed five minutes. His security detail's has rendezvoused with Ambassador Soval's."

"Acknowledged," Trip replied. Nate had just told him that Major T'Lydya and her people had quietly replaced the questionable guards in the conference room with supporters of Archer and Soval. _Okay, timing is everything here._

He went back to Jon's side and whispered, "Diplomat, Admiral McGee's been delayed five minutes."

"Thanks, Ensign." Jon finished chatting with T'Saiya's temporary replacement at the front desk. Now he slowly made his way through the entrance of the western wing of the Consulate. Trip nodded at Lee, who checked the power level of his EM-33. Jeremiah did the same; he kept an eye on Lee's every move.

"Send word to the rest of the team," Trip whispered. "Stay put until it's time. Anyone who jumps early's gonna be strung up."

"No problem, Boss," Lee whispered back and relayed Trip's orders to the other members of the detail. Trip knew that he could trust only one or two of them not to shoot Jon or Soval at the first opportunity. He prayed that none of the others would get any bright ideas.

They finally reached the floor where the conference room was located. Sergeant Breen snapped to attention as the diplomatic party neared the door. Archer nodded at him and asked, "Is Ambassador Soval—?"

"He and Major T'Lydya are waiting for you inside, sir," Breen said. "Admiral McGee is on his way now."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

Breen's eyes suddenly widened in alarm as Trip's watch emitted a sharp screech. The green light at the base of the clock face turned from green to red.

Trip realized it in an instant: Breen had implanted one of the bombs in the watch and had given it to him. Paxton had known—or had at least suspected—that he had been playing both sides. But judging from Breen's expression, someone had triggered the bomb a moment too soon, which meant none of them would have time to escape before it went off.

"Dammit!" Jeremiah ripped the watch from Trip's wrist. "Get DOWN!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Trip burst out, but Jeremiah had already disappeared down the hall with it. He'd never seen a man Jeremiah's size move so fast. Trip made a split-second decision: he launched himself toward a startled Jon Archer, knocking him down and covering Jon with his own body.

Then the bomb went off, shaking the Consulate to its foundations.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: Jeremiah makes a curtain call and Trip becomes a reluctant hero.**

**Rating: T**

**Please R&R Thanks.**

_**Kow tath is actually mentioned in the VLD (Vulcan Language Dictionary website).

* * *

**_

**Seven**

_**Trip's Quarters, Enterprise**_

"I remember that," Jon said. "I remember Jeremiah snatching the watch away from you, then disappearing with it. I didn't know what was going on until you tackled me to the floor, just before the bomb went off."

Hoshi went pale at the thought of Matt Hayes with a live bomb. "That's where he got those burns."

"Burns?" Malcolm repeated.

"Matt's got some pretty bad scars on his body, under the uniform," Travis said in a hushed voice. "I remember when we were on the _Montana _and we ran into the Tandarans. They'd tortured him, and their armsman said something about it 'being a shame having to destroy the artwork' on his skin."

Jon whistled softly. "Christ."

"Yeah." Travis said, looking down at his hands. "It was that bad. But I never asked Matt what had happened to give him those scars; it was none of my business, anyway."

Trip's eyes were sorrowful. "Like I said, when I met Matt Hayes later, when Hoshi and I were on the _Madagascar_...I didn't make the connection until much later that he and Jeremiah were one and the same...because this was when Jeremiah made his grand exit."

"He disappeared?" Phlox asked.

"Um...something a little more permanent."

"He died?" Phlox said, his eyes widening. "But Captain Hayes is still alive—"

"Matt pulled a convincing act, with help from our dear Vulcan ambassador." Trip shrugged at Jon and added, "And I wasn't done savin' your butt yet, Jon."

"You weren't?" Jon asked with humor in his voice, trying to lighten the mood again. "Now that part I don't remember."

"That's because you were takin' a little nap at the time," Trip retorted.

* * *

**March 18, 2144, Vulcan Consulate**

"Jon? Jon?" Trip tried to wake up Archer, but the diplomat had been knocked out cold. The air around them was filled with dust and debris and a cloying smell tickled Trip's nose. _Some kind of leak somewhere...we've got to evacuate the building._

"Ensign Tucker!" Major T'Lydya dropped to her knees next to him. "The diplomat—"

"He's unconscious, but he's alive. I need help getting him out of here. Where's Soval?"

"He is assisting the evacuation of the Consulate. There are multiple coolant and gas leaks; we must get everyone out."

Trip scowled. "Soval needs to get outta here too. He ain't expendable. Wish I could tell him—"

_We are at the east courtyard, Trip. Do not worry about my welfare; get Jonathan and the others to safety. _Soval's brief mind-voice was like a tap on the back of Trip's head. It reminded him briefly of when his sister Alexandra had smacked him when he'd said something stupid. The sharp rebuke stopped Trip in mid-rant.

_I heard ya. Thanks for lettin' me know. _He wondered if this thought-sharing business was permanent, and whether or not it meant anything more than an accidental mind-link. _Me and Soval. Yeah, right. If he picks up Alex's habit, I'm gonna have a permanent concussion. _

He snorted at the thought, then said aloud, "All right, Major. Can you help me with Diplomat Archer?"

She nodded and took up one side of Archer's prone body, while Trip took up the other side. Together, they half-carried, half dragged Jon down two flights of stairs and out into the Consulate's courtyard. Medical transports were already pulling up to the gates, and Third Officer Somek was organizing the rescue effort.

"Take care of him," Trip snapped to a medic as he and T'Lydya hauled Jon onto a waiting stretcher. The man in field greens nodded distractedly, then ordered his team to attend the new patient. A part of Trip's mind noted the man's clipped accent and the no-nonsense attitude, but he promptly forgot whom he saw, as he assisted others out into the courtyard.

Time blurred as he forced himself to stay on his feet. Most of the Consulate regular workers had already left for the evening, but the evening shift still numbered about eighty. Tears ran down his cheeks as he saw good men and women of his security detachment injured and unconscious in the wake of the attack. Some of them had been in cahoots with Lee Doumaides and Sergeant Breen; others were as loyal to Archer and Soval. Unfortunately, the sheer number of the former outweighed the latter. That fact both saddened and enraged him.

"En-ensign?"

A medic knelt beside a prone body, with Soval on the other side of the fallen man. A lump rose in Trip's throat as he recognized the person, and he dropped heavily to his knees next to the medic. "Hey, Jeremiah–"

"Did everyone make it out?" Jeremiah's voice was weak, but Trip heard it all the same. One side of his face was bloody, and his hands were already shiny with burn ointment. Trip didn't want to imagine the kind of internal injuries he must have suffered.

"Yeah," Trip whispered back. He gripped Jeremiah's shoulder. "Relax, buddy. Ya saved my life. I owe ya one."

"You would've done the same for me...Trip," His eyes closed wearily; the medic and Soval exchanged unreadable looks.

"Keep talking to him, Ensign," said the medic as he brought out a hypospray and emptied the contents into Jeremiah's neck. He redialed the medication dispenser and then injected it into Jeremiah's arm.

"Don't you go out on me," Trip said with feeling. He couldn't believe Jeremiah was just giving up. "I'm gonna kick your ass if you do."

Jeremiah tried to laugh but it came out as a cough. "You'd only get to try it once—"

"Ambassador—" the medic interrupted, with a warning in his voice. "I'm losing him."

Soval's expression was grave as he brought his hand up to brush Jeremiah's temple, then his long fingers found the psi points on the man's face. "Do not struggle against me, Lieutenant Commander. I am here to help you."

Trip and the medic glanced at each other, but the medic only shrugged and glanced down at his medical scanner. Several tense minutes passed, then Soval's mouth moved in a silent question. Jeremiah inhaled a deep breath, his answer a sigh.

"Yes." Then his body was still.

Soval opened his eyes and dropped his hand from Jeremiah's face. A moment later, the medic's scanner emitted a low beep. Trip hardly heard it; he couldn't believe the man was dead, not after all he had done---

"I'm sorry, Ensign. He's gone." The medic snapped his scanner closed with a finality that Trip found heartless. Trip stifled the urge to throttle the medic for his lack of bedside manner, and turned to Soval instead.

"Soval? You okay?"

"Yes, Trip, I am fine." But when Soval opened his eyes, Trip saw a haunted look deep within them. "Jeremiah has ceased to exist. Take care of him, Mister Diaz."

The medic nodded and replied, "Yes, sir."

As Soval led Trip away, Trip thought, _Ceased to exist? I suppose that's the nice Vulcan way of sayin' the man who saved your life is dead. _He only had time to finish the thought before someone else called out for help, and he and Soval were off again, helping the rescue. Trip shoved the grief into a corner of his mind, knowing he'd have to deal with it later. Right now, he had a job to do.

* * *

Hours later, he and Nate Kemper were assisting the last of the victims into the medvacs. Trip tried to control his sorrow and his anger, but he found it difficult to do so. There was so many losses: Jeremiah, good Security men and women...all because Paxton wanted to destroy the Vulcans and anyone else who wasn't Human. If Paxton had been around, Trip would have given him more than just a piece of his mind...

"Tucker!"

Trip's head snapped up in time to see a blur slam directly into him, knocking the wind from his lungs. Two strong hands clamped around his neck, and a heavy weight knelt directly on his chest, preventing Trip from gaining any leverage. Pain raced down Trip's spine and paralyzed him.

"Traitor!" hissed Lee's voice. "Those Vulcans have brainwashed you, made you weak. This will be quick, Tucker, one quick snap—"

There was a sharp crack and Trip waited for the rush of death in his ears. Then the vise around his neck eased abruptly and Lee's body went limp, the dark blue eyes glazed over. His body fell sideways off Trip's chest. Trip blinked to see Major T'Lydya calmly getting up from her kneeling position behind Lee. It had happened so fast that Nate Kemper hadn't had time to shoot his EM-33. Nate crouched over Lee and checked his pulse with his left hand.

"Damn," Nate said in a low voice. "One second more, Major—"

"_Tal-shaya," _she murmured, her voice regretful and sad. "Are you all right, Ensign?"

"Yeah...fine," Trip rasped. "Is everyone out?"

"Everyone has been evacuated," came Soval's voice on Trip's other side. He felt the ambassador's steady hand on his shoulder and to his surprise and relief, a warm wave of warm comfort. "Please relax, Trip. Everything will be all right."

"But—" The soothing warmth made him tired and he let himself drift. Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard Soval say in his mind, _I understand the darkness now, Trip.

* * *

_

_**Trip's Quarters, Enterprise**_

"You're telling me he actually died?" Travis asked.

Trip shook his head, then glanced at T' Pol. "_Tow kath. _I hope I got the pronunciation right."

T'Pol nodded and Malcolm's face suddenly brightened in understanding. "A healing trance so deep that biosigns hardly register on a medical scanner," she said. "So for all appearance, Jeremiah—Matthew Hayes—was dead."

"Enough to fool the medic and enough to fool me," Trip admitted. "I didn't know it until later, but Soval used his considerable influence to provide a place for him to recover undisturbed. So, Jeremiah 'died' and Matt Hayes pretty much took his place."

Hoshi shook her head in wonder. "All they told me was that Matt had been severely injured in a rescue operation and was going home to Colorado Springs to rest. I didn't see him for two months and by that time, he was reporting back to the _Shenandoah_. Amazing."

"Apparently, Captain Hayes has a remarkable talent for self-healing on his own," Malcolm remarked.

"And you lost most of your security detachment?" Phlox asked Trip, his eyes shadowed.

"Three of them died directly in the blast, including Sergeant Breen, and three more afterward, including Lee Doumaides." Trip sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Another five were retained for questioning in connection with Terra Prime. That's eleven right there, out of eighteen active personnel. That doesn't include some of the support staff and the civilian workers."

Jon's tone was quiet. "We ended up having to thoroughly clean house after Trip and the others exposed their conspiracy. Starfleet launched their own separate investigation. The press at the time had a field day. Needless to say, Paxton got the publicity he wanted, but none of it good."

Phlox sighed, "A high price to pay to stop a madman."

"The price could've been a whole lot higher," Malcolm commented. "Doctors Ayakamura, Samirah and I had our hands full at Starfleet Medical. It was fortunate for some of the victims that we were so close by. We were able to save their lives."

"So, did you eventually apprehend Paxton?" T'Pol asked.

Trip nodded. "Yeah, but that's another story for another day. We're close to the end of this one, though the story ain't quite finished yet..."

* * *

**Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, the evening of March 19, 2144**

His twenty-second birthday so far had been more exciting than he would have liked. He'd woken up in a bed at Starfleet Medical, after having been unconscious for ten hours. Whatever Soval had done to him had eased his physical pain; Doctor Samirah had pronounced him fit for release not long afterwards. Her remarks about his "amazing healing powers" had made him uncomfortable, but he wasn't about to tell her the truth.

Soval hadn't been able to heal his inner hurts, though.

He'd known that he'd probably would have had to do some unsavory things in the name of duty. Starfleet Security was not for the faint-hearted. Yet in his wildest dreams did he even imagine himself being a spy and betraying all he believed in. _If history had been different, would I have been like Lee, or maybe even like Jeremiah?_ _I _knew _I should've transferred into Engineering when I had the chance. Engineers aren't likely to become spies._

"You sound positively morose," Jon Archer told him as the driver took them to Cochrane Hall, a building on the grounds of Starfleet Command. It served as a temporary Vulcan Consulate while the original Consulate building was being repaired.

"Nah, it's just the adrenaline letdown," Trip replied as he closed his eyes. He wasexhausted, even if his mind refused to stop turning. "I just want to crash, that's all."

"You feel guilty for what happened."

Trip opened one eye to regard Jon. "Yeah, maybe a little."

"Maybe a lot."

Trip opened both eyes. "Since when have you become a mind reader, Jon?"

Jon's smile was lopsided. "I don't have to be; it's written all over your face." The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. "If it's any consolation, it's our fault. Paxton was able to manipulate our people right under our noses. Even Soval had been unaware what was going on. Starfleet Security's going through a major shakedown right now. But believe me that it could've been a lot worse if it hadn't been for you."

He stubbornly shook his head in denial. "Jon, I betrayed my principles. I conspired with Paxton and his cronies. Hell, I rigged the conference room to blow, and if it hadn't been for my security comm link, you guys wouldn't have even known—"

"But you did leave the link open, so we could track you and disarm the bombs. Your audio conversation with Paxton, then with Lee Doumaides afterwards in the Consulate, pretty much implicated Paxton and his group. And you saved my life and the lives of others too. I think Starfleet and the Vulcan High Command will take that under account."

The aircar slowed and stopped in front of Cochrane Hall and Corporal Nathan Kemper opened the door for them. "Welcome back, Diplomat, Ensign."

"Good to see ya, Nate," Trip greeted him. He extended a hand to Nate, who took it and shook it firmly. "Heard you had one wild ride back from Berkley."

Nate chuckled and shrugged good-naturedly. "Our shuttle hit 200 kph at one point. I don't think I'm going to let Andrew Chang drive for a long, long time."

"Yeah, but you guys managed to get back in time. I owe you guys one."

"Naaah," Nate said with an evil grin. "The unit considers you an honorary MACO anyway. Just part of the job." He glanced at Jon and asked, "Diplomat Archer?"

"Is everything ready, Nathan?"

"All ready whenever you two are," Nate said with a wink.

Trip was immediately suspicious. "All right, what's going on? What's—" He didn't have time to finish his protest, for both Jon and Nate practically frog-marched him up the stairs and through the front door. The entrance hall was lined with men and women in Security uniforms.

"Atten-_shun!_" Nate hollered, and the guards snapped to attention. Before Trip could say anything, he was swept through the hall and into the main atrium, where Admiral Alastair McGee stood next to Ambassador Soval. Major T'Lydya stood at Soval's side in full uniform. For the first time, Trip realized that the Security contingent was comprised of Humans and Vulcans.

"Attention to orders!" said Admiral McGee. He took out a PADD as Nate and Jon maneuvered Trip in front of him, and Jon took his place on McGee's left side. "As of today, nineteenth of March, twenty-one forty-four, Ensign Charles A. Tucker the Third is hereby promoted to the rank of lieutenant, junior grade, in recognition of his devotion to duty, above and beyond its call."

Trip's mouth dropped open, then he realized where he was and closed it. McGee handed Jon an extra rank pip, an open one, and Jon pinned it next to the one full gold one on Trip's uniform collar. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Tucker."

"Thank you, sir." He managed to sound somewhat coherent. "I—"

"Both Captain Ramirez and Major T'Lydya recommended you, with endorsements from Diplomat Archer and Ambassador Soval." McGee's smile turned wry. "Starfleet couldn't exactly turn down that kind of thing." He saluted Trip. "Thank you for all you've done."

"You're welcome, sir. And I would do it again." Even as Trip said the words, he knew it was the truth. Despite it all, he woulddo it all again. He returned the salute and as he accepted McGee's handshake, Jon began the applause and it thundered through the atrium. Trip caught Soval's slight smile and gave him a nod of gratitude.

* * *

Much later, Trip found peace and quiet in Cochrane Hall's one garden. Trip sighed and leaned back against the wall, allowing the coolness to seep through his shirt. Instead of his Starfleet uniform, he now wore civilian clothes, a dark plaid shirt and jeans.

"Lieutenant Tucker? Trip?"

His eyes widened at the dry voice. "Soval? How—?"

"Your emotions blaze in the darkness like a beacon. To one who is attuned to your mind, it is almost...blinding."

"Can't hide from you, can I?"

The ambassador stepped out from the shadows and sat on the bench facing opposite him, folding his long robes out of the way. They sat there in silence for a moment, savoring the coolness of the spring night.

"I believe the form of salutation is 'Happy Birthday'."

Trip gaped at him, as Soval extended his hand, palm-up to him. A silver disc lay there, etched with silver and gold and attached to a chain. Wordlessly, he accepted it. Starlight danced upon it and threw shadows on the terracotta walkway at his feet.

"What's this?"

Soval's mouth curved upward in a slight smile. "It is Vulcan badge of honor, given to those who prove themselves worthy in times of trial. I would be pleased if you accept it."

"Uh...thank you. I'm the one honored." He allowed Soval to place the chain over his neck, surprised that the ambassador was willing to touch him. Vulcans were touch-telepaths and weren't keen on extended physical contact.

"Your soul is still shadowed, Trip, filled with anger, sorrow and regret."

Trip gazed at him. The glow from his unexpected promotion ceremony had faded and left desolation behind. "Didn't you say that you understood the darkness now? What'd you mean?"

Soval didn't flinch from the steady stare as he replied, "When I touched Jeremiah's mind, I felt his last thoughts. He was an honorable man, yet weighed down with responsibility. Regret. Guilt. Vulcans deny such emotions, call them irrational and illogical, yet they can be powerful motivators in times of great distress."

"Yeah. More than we know."

"But there was hope, hope that we would triumph in the end. It was bright, like—"

"—a beacon. I had the feeling you'd used that word deliberately when you described me."

Again, another ghost of a smile played upon Soval's lips. "Are we so linked that you must finish every sentence I speak?"

"Sorry." Trip didn't sound the least bit apologetic. "I guess this thing between us is permanent?"

"About as close as a family member, I suppose, but not quite as close as bonded mates."

Trip grinned and quipped, "Thank God. I like you, but not thatmuch."

Soval gave him a deadpan expression, but Trip felt his unspoken amusement. "In any case, I felt the same darkness over you when I entered the garden, but now it has lifted."

"A little. I was thinking about what's gonna happen in the future. We still got a lot of work to do."

"Yes." Soval nodded, "but it is illogical to dwell on what may or may not come to pass. It is also illogical to allow the darkness to overwhelm your vision."

Trip took a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right again. Soval—"

"Yes?"

"Does this mean you can tell what's going on in my very soul?"

"Not on a consistent basis, but I can tell when you might be a threat to yourself or to others."

"That's reassuring. I've got an early detection and warning system before I do something stupid."

This time Soval allowed the faintest of smiles. "It is called 'logic', Trip. Even the basest of emotions have their own unique logic."

Trip chuckled. "You're learnin', Soval. You're learnin'."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is the last chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

**And if you haven't reviewed, please drop a note. It really helps my writing.**

**Thanks!**

**Rating: T

* * *

**

Epilogue

**Enterprise, March 19, 2154, 2352 hours**

"So that's why you're able to get away with half the wisecrack remarks you make around Soval," Hoshi said with a broad grin. "He basically knows why you do it and it doesn't bother him as much as other Vulcans."

"Yeah. He puts up with a lot from me." Trip replied with a chuckle. "In return, he gives me plenty of advice, just like he would with any other member of his family."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow and said, "He does attempt to impart his wisdom to those under his charge. So does this mean that we are bound by clan ties as well?"

Trip thought a moment. He wasn't sure if the prospect bothered or thrilled T'Pol; it was hard to tell with her. "Not like brother or sister. More like, oh I don't know, distant cousins or somethin' like that. It's not like we're related by blood."

"Obviously," she replied dryly. "I'm rather surprised that Soval has never told me this about you."

"Ah...probably 'cause he didn't know how you'd take it. Your mother follows strict traditional rules and courtesies, so I don't think she'd be thrilled at a Human bein' close to the family."

Jon nodded in agreement. "That actually makes some sense. T'Les is very much the traditionalist."

Travis stretched and got up. "Shows how we still got a ways to go, doesn't it? But like Soval said, there's hope. Well, thanks for the tale, Trip, and give my greetings to the ambassador next time you chat with him."

"Will do, Travis. 'Night."

Phlox smiled and said, "Have a good evening, Lieutenant Commander Tucker, and happy birthday."

"Thanks, Phlox." Phlox headed back to Engineering, while Travis went to the Bridge.

Malcolm got up first and helped Hoshi to her feet. "I'd be gratified if you could stop by Sickbay within the next few days, Lieutenant Commander."

Trip sighed and shook his head and asked, "Please tell me I'm not gonna be your next pet project. You know how I feel 'bout being hooked up to your machines."

Malcolm's eyes twinkled and he replied, "It won't hurt much, I promise."

Hoshi elbowed Malcolm gently in the ribs. "Doctor, enough. I'm not going to have my Chief Medical Officer and my Armory Officer at odds with each other. The crew might get ideas."

"I wouldn't worry too much, my dear captain. I suspect the crew already know about our little 'disagreements'," he answered dryly.

"Yeah, and we have a reputation to protect," Trip added with a broad grin. "Doc, no promises, but I'll do my best. The Armory's got some upgrades comin' and it'll be hectic."

"I'm sure your precious cannons could spare you for a few hours."

Hoshi stepped in before it could turn into an argument. "Trip, arrange it through Lieutenant Cutler, all right? I believe you're on the duty roster tonight, Malcolm, and Trip and I have a long day tomorrow." She smiled at Trip. "Good night, Trip."

"'Night, Doc. Cap'n."

Jon, T'Pol and Trip noticed the glance that went between the captain and her Chief Medical Officer as they went through the door. Jon quirked an eyebrow and asked, "They've known each other...how long? Five, six weeks?"

"Don't even go there, Jon," Trip cut in, but he felt a twinge of uneasy guilt as he said it. "'She's romantically involved with Matt Hayes."

Jon gazed at the door long after they'd left, then shook his head and dropped the subject. "Good night, Trip. See you in the morning?"

"Bright and early, Jon. Thanks for everything."

After Jon left, T'Pol touched the IDIC symbol around her neck and said, "I would be honored to offer you friendship...Trip, if you would have it."

"Sure, if you don't mind putting up with a completely illogical Human being." Trip grinned at his own words. "If Soval can do it, I hope you can too."

T'Pol regarded his words for a moment, then lifted her hand, palm facing forward and fingers close together. Trip nodded and mirrored the gesture. She touched his palm gently with hers...

* * *

...and saw a bright flame, surrounded by rings of dark clouds. The clouds were like an impenetrable barrier, a gate to the flame. T'Pol instinctively knew that she would not be able to breach it, not right now. But why was Trip surrounded by a sea of dark emotion, when he showed no outward trace of it on the outside?

_Is this what Soval saw when he mind-touched Trip? The darkness that is just...barely held back by the light? Is _this _why Soval told me to take caution around this man, when I told him I would be serving with him?_

She understood Soval's concern now. She knew the scars that life had given her; how much more pain had Trip endured in the past decade? Whatever it was, Trip had locked it within his subconscious, so his crew mates only saw the easy-going, calm exterior.

Whatever had happened, T'Pol wasn't going to judge him for it. Instead, she was going to be his friend and fellow officer...and if he needed assistance, she would give it to him. It was the most logical course of action to take.

All this happened in a few heartbeats. When she dropped her hand, she met his gaze squarely. "Be known that if you require any...advice, I am capable of acting in Soval's stead."

"I'll keep that in mind, T'Pol. Thank you."

She inclined her head to him and left his quarters. There was much to meditate on in the coming days...Humans were such a complicated species, indeed, but an honorable one.

* * *

Trip watched her go. Such offers of support didn't come easy from a Vulcan; it took a long time before earning one's trust. If Soval could do it, he had confidence that T'Pol could too.

He grinned and thought, _Still gotta write that thank-you note to Soval for the IDIC. It's appropriate for how my little birthday fete turned out. I wonder if somehow he knew. _Trip allowed the door to close behind him as he tried to figure out just how to phrase his message.


End file.
